CiHM 
Microfiche 
Series 
(l\/lonographs) 


ICI\/IH 

Collection  de 
microfiches 
(monographies) 


Canadian  Instituta  for  Hiatorical  Mkroraproductiona  /  Inst. tut  Canadian  da  microraproductiona  hittoriqua* 


1996 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  technique  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best  original 
copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this  copy  which 
may  be  bibliographlcally  unique,  which  may  alter  any  of 
the  images  in  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
significantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming  are 
checked  below. 


D 

D 

D 

D 
D 
D 

D 

D 

D 

D 

D 


Coloured  covers  / 
Couverture  de  coulet 

Covers  dimaged  / 
Couverture  endommagee 

Coveis  restored  arwl/or  laminated  / 
Couverture  restauree  et/ou  pellicula 

Cover  title  missing  /  Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps  /  Cartes  geographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  lnl(  (i.e.  other  than  i^lue  or  blacl<)  / 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations  / 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material  / 
Reliu  avec  d'autres  documents 

Only  edition  available  / 
Seule  edition  disponible 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin  /  La  reliure  serree  peut 
causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la  distorsion  le  long  de 
la  marge  int^rieure. 

8lanl<  leaves  added  during  restorations  may  iqapear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have 
been  omitted  from  filming  /  II  se  peut  que  certaines 
pages  blanches  ajoutees  lors  d'une  restauration 
appataissent  dans  le  texte,  mais,  lorsque  cela  etait 
possible,  ces  pages  n'ont  pas  ete  filmees. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  examplaire  qu'il  lui  a 
6ti  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details  de  cet  exem- 
plalre  qui  sont  peut-6tre  uniques  du  point  de  vue  bibli- 
ographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier  une  image  reproduite, 
ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  modifications  dans  la  m^h- 
ode  normale  de  filmage  sont  indiqute  ci-dessous. 

I     I     Coloured  pages  /  Pages  de  couleur 

I     I     Pages  damaged  /  Pages  endommagees 

I     I     Pages  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
' — '     Pages  restaur^es  et/ou  pelllcuiees 

r/|     Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed  / 
^^     Pages  decdorees,  tacfwtees  ou  piquees 

I     I     Pages  detached  /  Pages  detachees 

[^     Showthrough/ Transparence 

r^    Quality  of  print  varies  / 

' — '      Qualite  inigale  de  I'impression 

r~]     Includes  supplementary  material  / 
' — '     Comprend  du  materiel  suppiementaire 

I  I  Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
' — '  slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image  /  Les  pages 
totalement  ou  pattiellement  obscurcies  par  un 
feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure,  etc.,  ont  Hi  filmees 
^  nouveau  de  fa;on  d  obtenir  la  mellleure 
image  possible. 

I  I  Opposing  pages  with  varying  colouration  or 
' — '  discolourations  are  filmed  twice  to  ensure  the 
best  possible  image  /  Les  pages  s'opposant 
ayant  des  colorations  variables  ou  des  decol- 
orations sont  filmees  deux  fois  afin  d'obtenir  la 
meilleur  image  possible. 


D 


Addtional  comments  / 
Commentairss  suppldmentaires: 


Thii  itwn  is  filmad  at  the  rKluction  ratio  chacktd  bakmr/ 

Ct  documant  tst  ftlmi  au  taux  de  rMuction  indiiiiii  ci-dancHn. 


1SX 

14X 

1IX 

ax 

26X 

KX 

y 

■ 

12  X 

1«X 

20X 

24  X 

28X 

32X 

Tha  copy  filmad  hara  has  baan  raproducad  thanks 
to  tha  ganarosity  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


L'axamplaira  film*  fut  raproduit  gr«ca  i  la 
gintrositA  da: 

Blbllotheque  natlonale  du  Canada 


Tha  imagss  sppaaring  hara  ara  tha  bast  quality 
possibis  considaring  tha  condition  and  Isgibility 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  kaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  spacifieationa. 


Las  imagas  suivantas  ont  M  raproduitas  avac  is 
plus  grsnd  soin,  compta  tsnu  da  la  condition  si 
da  la  nattat*  da  I'axsmplaira  fiimi,  at  sn 
conformit*  avac  laa  conditions  du  contrat  ds 
filmaga. 


Original  copias  in  printad  papsr  covara  ara  fllmad 
baginning  with  tha  front  eovar  and  anding  on 
tha  last  paga  with  a  printad  or  illustratad  impras- 
sion,  or  tha  back  covar  whan  appropriata.  All 
othar  original  copiaa  ara  fllmad  baginning  on  tha 
first  paga  with  a  printad  or  illustratad  impraa- 
aion.  and  anding  on  tha  last  paga  with  a  printad 
or  llluatratad  imprassion. 


Tha  last  racordad  frama  on  aaeh  mlcrofieha 
shall  contain  tha  symbol  — ^  (moaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tha  symbol  V  (moaning  "END"), 
whichavar  applias. 

Mapa,  platas,  charu.  ate.  may  ba  fllmad  at 
diffarant  rsduction  ratios.  Thosa  too  larga  to  ba 
sntiraly  includsd  in  ona  sxposura  ara  fllmad 
baginning  in  tha  uppar  laft  hand  cornar,  lafl  to 
right  and  top  to  bonom,  as  many  framas  as 
raquirad.  Tha  following  diagrams  illuslrsia  tha 
mathod: 


Laa  axamplairaa  originaux  dont  la  couvartura  sn 
papiar  aat  ImprimOa  sont  fiimOs  sn  commancant 
par  la  pramiar  plat  at  an  tarminant  soit  par  Is 
darnitra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'Imprassion  ou  d'lllustration,  soit  par  la  sscond 
plat,  salon  la  caa.  Tous  las  sutras  axsmplairas 
originaua  sent  fllmOs  sn  commsncant  par  la 
pramMra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'Impraasion  ou  d'lllustration  at  an  tarminant  par 
la  darnitra  paga  qui  comporta  una  taila 
amprainta. 

Un  daa  symbolos  suivants  tpparaltra  sur  la 
darniira  imaga  da  chaqua  microficha.  salon  la 
cas:  la  symbols  ^m-  signifis  "A  SUIVRE".  la 
symboio  V  signifis  "FIN". 

Lss  cartas,  planchas.  Mblsaux.  ate.  pauvant  itre 
filmto  A  das  uux  da  rMuction  diffiranis. 
Lorsqua  la  documant  ast  trop  grand  pour  Strs 
rsproduit  an  un  saul  clichS.  11  ast  film*  1  psrtir 
da  I'angia  supAriaur  gaucha,  da  gaucha  S  droita. 
at  da  haut  an  bas.  an  pranant  la  nombra 
d'imagaa  nOcassaira.  Las  diagrammas  suivants 
illustrant  la  mOthoda. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

wctocorr  iisoiution  tbt  chart 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No-  7) 


1.0 


I.I 


|23 
12.2 
|Z0 

11.8 


1:25    i  1.4 


1^   i^    111^ 


A 


i    /IPPLIED  INA^GE    In, 


1653   Ea*>   Main   3tr«T 
RoctiMlBr.   Ntw   Torh        1 
(716)   *82-OWO-Pnon 
(716)   2Sf   -  59B9  -Fo. 


BY  PATH  AND 
TRAIL 


DEAN  HARRIS 


PUBLISHERS 

CHICAGO  NEWSPAPER  UNION 

CHICAGO 

i9oa 


To 

MV   IIKAR    FI<[KN1) 

K  K  V.     H(,  :    1.;  ;;t     KER 

mCTOHOl-  ST.   CATHAR,M-s  AN,.  CUA.M.AIN   TO  THE  ,.TH  REGIMENT 

I    DEDICATE    THIS    KEIOKD  OP  MY   THAVEI.S 

■•BV   PATH  AND  TKAIL" 


CONTENIS. 

HIAI-lKU  I. 

Vaq* 

OllK.'X  Of  THE  FIOIITINO  VAylltK S 

ClIAI'IKIl  II. 
OXrilK  WAY  TO  THE  DAKllANI^A 13 

VIIAI'IHIl  III. 
HATTLK  OF  THE  ELEMENTS 20 

Cll.lfTllIt  ;i 
VAIXKV  OF  THE  CIICIIOIIKS 3g 

CH.iPTKR  y. 
FKIEXn  OF  THE  MOUXTAINEEIl gg 

CHAPTER  VI 
THE  lilXXEIiS  OF  THE  SIERllA 45 

CHAPTER  ril, 
THE  I'iilEST  AX^)  THE  YACJI'IS 57 

CHAPTER  Mil. 

WHEia:  .MAX  KNTEItS  AT   Ills  I'EItll ,17 

VII 


CONTIf  N  i\ 

VU.MTKU  I.X. 

Tllli  IIHAII  OF  TlIK   IIKMKUT.  . .  . 

7j 

OIIM-TKU  A. 

TOW  M(JJJT  KDIl  LIKK... 

8.J 

Till.)   •IlKJUl.u    INDIANS'. 

Ul 

VUAfTi:i!  XII. 
JBHIIITB   AND   Ul(;(ii:u   INDIANS 

vaArriii!  .\iii. 

TIIK   VAOA  DK   I.IJ.MIlltK. 

I(J!) 

CUAPTEIt  XIV. 
TOK  I'KADEBA  AND  (iUANO  PKDS 

OD.U'Ti:it  XV. 

OBIOIN  Of  rilE  "PIOUS  FUND" 

in 

cH.inr.H  XVI. 

IE  or  THB  GltAMC.. 

135 

CHAPTER   XVII. 

IF  THE  NEW  TES-l'AMKNT 

Till 


TIIB  I 


SOI, 


CONTiNTS. 

rllM'ir.ll    will. 
A  L.».\I)  OK  sciiMc  u-DViir.iis 

I II  trrri:  .\i\. 
vt:(;KTATio.\  OF  nii:  iikskut „„ 

'■II  AIT  I  It    ,\\, 
TK.MI'l.i:s  OK  THE  l)KSi;i;-|' 

niM'IKll    XXI. 
A    .■II111A€LK   OK   .NATi;iU; 

IIIAPTEU    .\.\ll. 
Tin;   IMCK-IIISTOHIC   III'IN 

iii.\ni:R  .will. 

A  <-|TV   IN-  TUB  DKsKliT 

ril.tinim  xxn. 

CAMP  OK  THK  COXSlMI-rn-Ks ,^,. 

rii.M'Tr.it  XXV. 

THE   OSTItK.H    KAItM 

iz 


i^} 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Facing  r'A<it; 


Tioui  FloiiTEKs  or  THE  Bacatete  Mouhiaiks. 


TABAHUMABI   ISDIAN8,   NOBIHEBN   MeHCO.  , 


HAtr-BLOoD  CowBovs.  LowEB  Cautobhu. 


A  "DiooEB  Indian,"  Ijoweb  Califobkia. 


MoQiTi  IjovERs.  Cuff  People. 


I'apaoo  "Wikiup" 


UUINS.    .\NCIENT    AND    MoDEBN. 


■■Wn.TE   KAOLE"   AND   "T.IE   Pi-,,*-   .XP.VCUES   ON    PaBADE. 


m 


BOOK  I. 


IN  THE  LAND  OF  THE  YAQUI 


m 
I  111 


■m 


A  SHORT  TALK  WITH  THE  EEADEB 

The  romance  and  weird  fascination  which  belong  to 
immense  solitudes  and  untenanted  wilds  are  fading  away 
and,  in  a  few  years,  will  be  as  if  they  were  not.  The  in- 
tangible and  the  immaterial  leave  no  memories  after 
them. 

The  march  of  civilization  is  a  benediction  for  the  fu- 
ture, but  it  is  also  a  devastaiion  before  which  savage  na- 
ture and  savage  man  must  go  down.  Unable  or  unwilling 
to  adapt  himself  to  new  conditions  and  to  the  demands 
of  a  life  foreign  to  his  nature  and  his  experience  original 
man  of  North  America  is  doomed,  like  the  wild  beast  he 
hunted,  to  extinction. 

^  For  centuries  he  .stubbornly  contested  the  white  man's 
right  to  invade  and  seize  upon  his  hunting  grounds;  he 
was  no  coward  and  when  compslled,  at  last,  to  strike  a 
truce  with  his  enemy,  he  felt  that  Fate  was  against  him, 
yielded  to  the  inevitable  and— all  was  over.  In  the  Baca- 
tete  mountains,  amid  the  terrifying  solitudes  of  the 
Sierras  of  Northern  .Mexico,  the  Yaquis— last  of  the 
fighting  tribes— is  disappearing  in  a  lake  of  blood  and 
when  he  is  subnu'rgcil  the  last  dread  war-whoop  will 
shriek  his  requiem.  It  will  never  ag.^in  be  heard  upon 
the  earth. 

The  lonely  regions  of  our  great  continent,  over  which 
there  brooded  for  unnumbered  ages  the  silence  which 
was  before  creation,  are  disappearing  with  the  vanishing 
Indian ;  a  new  vegetable  and  a  new  animal  life  are  sup- 
planting the  old  now  on  the  road  to  obliteration.  The 
ruiu  is  pathetic,  but  inevitable. 


BY  PATH  AND  TI:\[L, 

So  before  tlie  old  slmll  l.ave  vntire  y  vanished,  it  i»  well 
llmt  we  should  look  upon  what  >c..t  romains  and  Imnd 
down  to  an  unprivileged  futnr,.  ,,  .io.s.Tiption  and  a  vcr- 
bal  photograph  of  what  the  country  was  in  days  gone 
by.  J.ower  California,  Sonora  and  the  illimitable  pine 
forests  of  the  Chihuahua  lia,,,,,  ..f  the  Sierras  Madres 
yet  ren-a.n  in  their  primitivo  isolation  and  magnificent 
savngery,  but,  before  our  ccnlury  expires,  the  immense 
solitudes,  the  unbroken  desolation  of  wilderness  and  the 
me  ancholy  fascination  which  belong  to  the  lonely  desert 
and  towering  mountain  and  to  sustained  and  unbroken 
silence  will  be  no  more.  Vale,  rale,  aelcrnc  valc-.^ooi- 
by,  s:o(>d.by  for  pvermnrc.  ■\\-  j.  °rT 


CHAPTEB  I. 


OBIQIN  OF  THE  PIOHTINO  YA<JUM. 

The  "Gran  Barranca"  of  the  Urique  river  in  south- 
eastern  donora  is  one  of  the  greatest  natural  wonders 
of  the  earth.    "And  where  is  Sonora?"    In  u  northern 
corne  •  of  the  territorially  great  republic  of  Mexico,  lust 
south  of  the  line  separating  Arizona  from  Mexico  and 
7'''*:l°"."'  '^'«*""  """«  by  the  waters  of  the  Oulf 
of  Caaforma,  is  the  state  of  Sonora.   Its  scenic  .wonders, 
Its  superb  climate,  its  mineral  and  agricultural  possibili- 
ties will  eventually  place  it  in  the  front  rank  with  the 
greatest  and  richest  states  of  the  Mexican  republic     As 
yet  It  IS  practically  an  unsettled  land  and  almost  un- 
known to  the  Moxicans  themselves.    It  awaits  develop- 
ment, but  promises  a  liberal  return  on  invested  capital. 
The  Cananea  copper  mines  are  now  attracting  wide- 
spread interest,  but  while  the  smeltings  of  these  mines 
and  the  mines  themselves  are  rich,  it  is  well  known  that 
many  other  prospected  and  as  yet  miopened  regions  con- 
tain superior  ore  of  inexhaustible  richness  and  abund- 
ance.   Owing  to  the  almost  insurmountable  difficulty  of 
freighting  machinery  and  shipping  the  ore  these  mines 
cannot  now  be  operated  on  a  paying  basis.    Gold,  sil- 
ver, copper,  lead,  onyx,  marble,  hard  and  soft  coal  have 
been  found  and  are  known  to  exist  in  large  deposits,  con- 
yert.ng  Sonora  into  a  veritable  storehouse  of  nature.    The 
lowlands  and  broad  valleys  of  the  state  yield  two  crops 
a  year,  and  these  .semi-tropical  lands  grow  and  maturo 
near  y  all  the  fruit  and  vegetable  varieties  of  the  tropical 
and  temperate  zones.    Like  the  Garden  of  Eden.  Sonora 


6 


BV  PATH  AMD  TBAIL. 


i»  watered  by  five  beautiful  rivers,  and  when  irrigation 
18  more  generally  introduced  and  the  river  wealth  of  the 
land  utilized,  the  districts  of  llermosillo,  Mayo,  Altar, 
Magdalena  and  above  all,  the  Sonora  Valley,  will  outrank 
in  luxuriuut  vegetation,  productiveness  and  richness  of 
soil  many  of  the  marvelously  fertile  lands  of  Lower  Mex- 
ico. 

Still,  the  development  of  all  these  mineral  and  agricul- 
tural resources  has  been  slow  and  is  yet  very  much  re- 
tarded by  a  combination  of  natural  and  hitherto  unsur- 
mountable  obstacles.  To  construct  durable  bridges  over 
the  chasms,  to  tunnel  giant  hills,  cut  beds  into  the  faces 
of  adamantine  mountains  and  build  railroads  into  the 
great  mining  districts  of  the  Sierra  Aladre,  call  for  such 
a  prodigious  expenditure  of  money  that  the  state  and 
capitalists  hesitate  "  id  move  slowly. 

But  the  absence  of  modern  methods  of  transportation 
has  not  been  the  only  drawback  to  the  development  of 
Sonora,  nor,  indeed,  the  most  serious  one.  Amid  the 
lofty  mountains  and  rugged  hills  of  this  wild  region,  the 
last  of  the  fighting  tribes  of  the  American  Indians  has 
bmit  his  Torres  Vedras— the  fort  of  the  broken  heart 
and  desperate  hope— is  making  his  last  stand  and  fight- 
ing his  last  battle.  You  have  heard  of  the  Yaquis,  the 
war  hawks  of  the  wilderness,  the  mountain  lions  of  the 
Sierra  Madre,  the  tigers  of  the  rocks.  They  are  all 
these  in  their  desperate  courage,  in  their  fierceness,  in 
their  endurance  and  treachery,  in  their  cunning  and  de- 
spair. 

In  this  desolation  of  wilderness,  behind  impregnable 
rocks,  these  fierce  men  have  f onght  the  soldiers  of  Spain 
and  the  rangers  of  Mexico  to  a  "standstill."  These  are 
they  who  say  to  Mexico,  "Until  you  make  peace  with  us, 


Br  PATH  AXO  TBAIL.  7 

u^tii  you  grant  our  conditions,  until  you  settle  with  us, 
ao°IUnTurVn:  ''''"™"  ''"'  """^  ""^  ""-"  »'  "»  ""« 
And  who  a.  these  men  who  challenge  the  strenirth 
of  Mexicof  WJ.O  and  what  are  the  /„,,ui„  ZTro 
coming  to  Sonoru  I  endeavored  to  inform  ny.self    n  the 

Terence,    whatever    is    human    interests    rae-"A«mo 

2'.  '""»<•",  nihil  a  ,nc  alicmun  puto.''    1  had  read  in 

Be  Amcnean  and  Mexican  new.,iMper.s  from  tin.e  to 

IT'-^m'!^]  "'"'"^'r""""  ""»  ""'""'»"'  ^"^^    I  road 

a  fifteen-pound  can  of  cyanide  of  potassium  into  the  mu- 
mcjpal  waterworkH  rcHcrvoir  at  iler.no.iUo  was    aught 

IddeH  Tr^  -f "'  '^  ""  "•■"«>"«««•    A  new  terror  is 
added  to  the  situation  in  the  Sonora  country  since  the 
Yaqms  have  learned  the  deadly  nature  of  the  pLoa 
wh,ch  ,s  so  largely  used  in  mining  operations  and  Tso 
easdy  accessible  to  desperadoes  like  the  Yaquis."    La  to 
m  Decern  er,  Um,  I  read  in  another  paper  published  L 
l„r   V  I      ""™"^'"S  band  of  Yaquis  entered  the  vil- 
lage of  Leneho,  killed  six  men  and    two    women  and 
wounded  four  other  Mexicans.   As  soon  as  the  firing  was 
heard  at  Torin.  three  miles  from  where  the  massaefe^c 
curred  and  where  2,000  troops  are  stationed,  General 
Lorenzo  Torres  took  the  field  in  pursuit  of  the  S' 
The  soldiers  w,Il  remain  out  until  the  Indians  are  killed 
or  captured."    Killed  or  captured!    Well,  for  400  years 
of  known  time  the  Spanish  or  Mexican  troops  have,  with 
occasional  periods  of  truce,  been  killing  and  ca.  '        . 
this  solitary  tribe,  and  strange  to  relate  the  warri    -  , 
the  tnbe  will  not  stay  killed  or  captured.    On  June  i2 


•  Br  PATH  AKD  ■nuh. 

1908  a  Gnaymag  morning  paper  published  tlii,  di.- 
patch:  A  special  from  Hermosillo,  .ay.  4,000  Mei- 
lean  .oldien.  under  the  pergonal  command  of  Gen 
Lorenzo  Torres,  are  in  the  country  .n  hot  pursuit  of  the 
1  u.  Indians.  All  negotiations  looking  toward  the 
8ig"'«g  of  the  peace  treaty  were  suddenly  broken  off 
this  afternoon.  The  yu<,uis  insisted  on  retaining  their 
arms  and  ammunition,  after  having  acceded  to  every 
other  stipulation  of  the  Mexican  government.  The  Mexi- 
can officers  stood  steadfast,  and  the  Yaquis  withdrew 
from  the  conference.  Immediately  orders  were  dis- 
patched to  the  Mexican  troops  in  the  field  to  resume  hos- 

ong  as  the  Mexican  troops  have  all  the  wafer  holes  in 
tue  Ifaqm  country  surrounded." 

Hi„™'-"'t''«'f*^*''  '""'"'  °"  """^  "ff-  *!">  Mexican  sol- 
W?)i°  '•»'*«1."'°»'  "O'npaniefi  and  isolated  commands 
have  been  chasing  through  the  mountains  these  stubborn 
and  half-civil^ed  fighters.  In  the  few  last  years  the 
Ifaqms  have  become  more  dangerous  and  daring,  more 

rZ7  ^T.*""!  "*"""''  °'  •'"'«='^-  "<J  «»  '^^y  -e  "ow 
toTh.  r  "'""'"^  f"  ^^'^  ""  "  ■"»»»  "'"""^  ""enace 
Sonora   °*'*''         development  of  central  and  southern 

rJ^t'  '^^°'."'  *•"  "^'"»""   ^""^  ■"  '•■«  days  when  the 

l^'J^TZ  .  "'  "'  "'^  '^'"*™''"  I"'^'"'''  ^"^  the  sole 
owner  of  the  two  great  continents  of  North  and  Souih 
Amenea,  an  >mraensc  region,  in  what  is  now  northwest- 

th^  AM  h"'  """  i""'™""'  ''■■  "  «'■*"'  """o"  known  as 
the  Athasbascan,  from  which  the  territory  of  Atl,  .basca 
and  the  great  river  flowing  through  it  take  their  names. 
One  division  of  this  numerous  nation  are  known  to-day 
as  Tinnes  or  Dinn^s,  and   may  have   been  so  called  in 


■Y  MTH  AXO  TBAIL.  9 

tboM  early  days.     For  aome  cause  unknown  to  na,  a 
tribal  family,  numbering  perhaps  a  thousand,  quarreled 
with  their  kinsmen  or  became    dissatisfied    with  their 
lands,  separated  from  their  brothers  and  went  in  quest 
of  new  hunting  grounds.    They  crossed  a  continent,  pass- 
ing  in  peace  through  the  lands  of  other  tribes  and  cut- 
ting a  passage  for  themselves  through  hostile  nations. 
Tliey  arrived  at  last,  it  may  be  in  a  hundred,  two  hun- 
dred  years,  in  the  land  now  known  as  New  Mexico  and 
Arizona,  possessed  and  tilled  by  an    agricultural    and 
peaceable  people,  differing  in  customs,  manners,  super- 
"'•tions,  and  in  origin  and  language.    They  decided  tj 
settle  here.    The  Zuni,  Moki,  Yumas— call  them  what  we 
may— contested  the  right  of  the  Dlnnis  to  live  in  their 
country.    The  invaders,  compared  to  the  established  na- 
tions, were  few  in  numbers,  but  they  were  trained  fight- 
ers.   They  were  lanky  men  of  toughened  fibre  and  mus- 
cle, the  sons  of  warrior  sires  who  had  fought  their  way 
through  tribe,  clan  and  nation,  and  willed  to  their  sons 
and  grandsons  their  only  estate  and  property,  courage, 
endurance,  agility,  strategy  in  war  and  cunning  in  the 
fight.    The  Dfrnis,  let  us   call   them   by  their  modern 
name  the  Apaches,  woefully  outclassed  in  numbers  by 
the  people  upon  whose  lands  they  had  intruded,  were 
wise.    Fighting  in  the  open,  if  they  lost  but  ten  men  in 
battle  and  the  Zuni  and  Moki  lost  forty,  in  the  end  the 
Zuni  and  Moki  must  win  out.    The  Apaches  took  to  the 
mountains.    The  Zuni  had  no   stomach    for   mountain 
fighting.    The  Apaches  raided   their   villages,  attacked 
like  lions  and  disappeared  like  birds.    They  swept  the 
Salt  Eiver  valley  clean  and  where  at  one  time  there  was 
a  sedentary  population  of  50,000  or  60,000  then  was  now 
a  desert.    Those  of  the  original  owners  who  escaped  fled 


D- 


I'll 


10 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


to  the  recesses  and  dark  places  of  the  Grand  canyon  or 
to  the  inaccessible  cliffs  where  the  Spaniards  found  them 
and  called  them  "burrow  people,"  and  where  hundreds 
of  years  afterward  the  Americans  discovered  them  and 
christened  them  "cliff  dwellers." 

There  are  no  records  on  stone  or  paper  to  tell  us 
when  these  thing  happened;  there  is  no  tradition  to  in- 
form us  when  the  Dlnnfe  entered  the  land  or  when  the 
devastation  began.  We  only  know  that  when  the  Span- 
iards came  into  Arizona  in  1539,  the  "Casa  Grande  " 
the  great  house  of  the  last  of  the  early  dwellers,  was' a 
venerable  ruin.  ,     »=  a 

The  Apaches  now  increased  and  multiplied,  they 
spread  out  and  divided  into  tribes.  One  division  trav- 
eled south  and  settled  along  the  slopes  of  the  Bacatete 
mountams  and  in  the  valley  of  a  river  to  which  they  gave 
their  name.  When  this  settlement  took  place  we  do  not 
know,  we  only  know  that  when  Father  Marcos  de  Nizza 
entered  Sonora,  the  first  of  white  men,  in  1539,  this  tribe 
ot  the  Apaches  called  themselves  Yaqui,  and  possessed 
I  Tf:  .?  '"'"  '"'"  '"'°  understand  why  the  Spaniards 
found  the  Yaqms  tough  customers  to  deal  with  and  why 
the  Mexicans  after  sixty  years  of  intermittent  war  have 
not  yet  conquered  them.  The  Yaqui  claims  descent  from 
the  wolf,  and  he  has  all  the  qualities  and  characteristics 
ot  the  wolf  to  make  good  his  claim. 

Centuries  of  training  in  starvation,  of  exposure  to 
burning  heat,  to  thirst,  to  mountain  storms  and  to  suffer- 
ing have  produced  a  man  almost  as  hardy  as  a  cactus,  as 
fertile  m  defense,  as  swift  of  foot  and  as  distinctly  a 
type  of  the  wilderness  and  the  desert  as  his  brothe-  the 
coyote.  "' 

From  the  earliest  Spanish  records  we  learn  that  this 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


11 


fierce  tribe  resisted  the  intrusion  and  settlement  in  tlieir 
country  of  any  foreign  race.  One  of  the  conditions  of  a 
treaty  made  with  them  by  the  early  Spaniards  permitted 
the  exploitation  of  the  mineral  wealth  of  the  counti-y. 
Villages  were  built  and  camps  established  from  time  to 
time,  but  when  the  Yaquis  or  Mexicans  broke  the  peace, 
these  camps  and  towns  were  left  desolate. 

It  is  impossible,  for  one  who  has  not  seen  Sonora  to 
imagine  the  ravages  wrought  in  a  country  for  which  na- 
ture has  done  so  much.' 

The  name  "Infelix"— unhappy— given  to  it  by  the 
early  missionary  fathers,  iu  sympathy  with  its  misfor- 
tunes, was  portentous  of  its  miseries.  Ti'c  ravages 
of  the  Yaquis  were  everywhere  visible  a  few  years  ago, 
and  in  many  places,  even  to-day,  the  marks  of  their  ven- 
geance tell  of  their  ferocity.  By  small  parties  and  by 
secret  passes  of  the  mountains  they  sweep  down  upoii, 
surprise  and  attack  the  lonely  traveler  or  train  of  trav- 
elers or  a  village,  slaughter  the  men  and  carry  off  the 
women  and  children.  Then,  in  their  mountain  lairs  and 
in  the  security  of  isolation,  the  mothers  are  separated 
from  their  children  and  the  children  incorporated  into 
the  tribe,  and  in  time  become  Yaqui  mothers  and  Yaqul 
warriors.  This  is  tiie  secret  of  the  vitalitv  and  perpe- 
tuity of  the  Yaqui  tribe.  If  it  were  not  for  this  practice 
of  stealing  children  and  incorporating  them  into  the 
tril)al  body,  the  Yaquis  would  long  ago  have  been  anni- 
hilated. Marcial,  Benevidea,  Bandalares,  prominent 
Yaqui  chiefs,  were  child  captives  and  manv  of  their 
council  and  war  chiefs  are  half-breeds.  And  now  here  is 
an  extraordinary,  and,  perhaps,  an  unprecedented  fact  in 
the  history  of  the  human  race  outside  of  the  Ottoman 
empire.    Of  the  Indians  warring  against  a  civilized  and 


12 


BY  PATH  AXD  TRAIL. 


a  White  nation,  one-third  are  whites,  one-half  half-castes 
and  many  of  the  rest  carry  in  their  veins  white  blood. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  civilized  troops  who  now,  and  for 
the  past  fifty  years,  have  been  waging  war  on  the  Yaquis, 
following  them  to  their  haunts,  hunting  them  in  the  fast^ 
npsa  of  their  mountain,  are  all  Indians  and  half-breeds 


CHAPTER  II. 


ON   THE  WAY  TO  THE  BABBANCA. 

To  the  traveler  from  the  northern  and  eastern  regions 
of  America,  }f'  xico  is  and  always  will  be  a  land  of  en- 
chantment, lio  weird  and  romantic  history,  its  imfa- 
miliar  and  gorgeously  flowering  vines,  its  thorny  and 
mysteriously  protected  plants  called  cacti,  its  strange 
tribes  of  unknown  origin,  its  towering  mountains,  vol- 
canoes and  abysses  of  horrent  depths  prepare  the  mind 
for  the  unexpected  and  for  any  surprise.  Still,  the  stag- 
gering tales  I  heard  here,  at  Guaymas,  of  the  wonders  of 
the  Gran  Barranca  and  the  matchless  scenery  of  the 
Sierra  Madre  gave  me  pause.  The  Sierras  Madres  are  a 
range  of  mountains  forming  the  backbone  of  Mexico, 
from  which  all  the  other  ridges  of  this  great  country 
stretch  away,  and  to  which  all  isolated  spurs  and  solitary 
mountains  are  related.  This  stupendous  range  of  moun- 
tains probably  rose  from  the  universal  deep,  like  the 
Laurentian  granites,  when  God  said  '  ,  there  be  light, 
and  light  was,"  and  will  remain  till  lue  Mighty  Angel 
comes  down  from  heaven  and  "swears  by  Him  that  liv- 
eth  forever,  that  time  shall  be  no  more." 

From  the  breasts  and  bosom  of  this  tremendous  range 
rise  mountains  of  individual  grentness,  towering  one 
above  the  other.  Here  are  sublime  peaks  of  imperishable 
material  that  lift  their  spires  into  ethereal  space,  and 
whose  snow  roofed  sides  receive  and  reflect  the  rays  of 
an  eternal  sun.  Here,  also,  are  horrent  gorges  which  ter- 
rify the  gaze — vast  abysses  where  there  is  no  day  and 
where  eternal  silence  reigns;  dead  volcanoes  whose  era- 


1  .    I 


14 


BY  PATH  ANU  TRAIL. 


TrlT  ^  .  i'T  "^  emptiness  and  whose  sides  are 
npped  and  gashed  down  to  the  very  foothills,  black  with 
lava  and  strewn  with  scoriae.  Of  the  time  when  these 
^Kbty  h.ns  belched  forth  flame  and  fire,  reverbe  ated 
with  explosive  gases,  and  the  crash  of  the  elements  that 
rocked  the  earth  and  sent  down  scoriae  torrents  which 
devoured  life  and  overwhelmed  and  effaced  vallevs  no 

sl^r  T-J^"t  '^^""'^^  ^^^  P"^'  "f  «>«  ^""derful 
flotrt^."^.  *'''/*"*''  "^  Chihuahua  and  Sonera, 
flow.s,  through  depths  immeasurable  to  man,  the  Urique 
river,  whose  flow  when  in  flood  is  an  ungovernable  tor- 
rent,  and  when  in  repose  is  a  fascination 

Thousands  of  years  ago  the  streams  and  rivulets 
formed  by  the  thawing  of  the  mountain  snow  on  h^ 
Sierra  s  crests  and  slopes  zigzagged,  now  here,  now  there 
searching  a  path  to  the  sea.  On  their  seaward  race  they 
were  joined  by  innumerable  recruits,  springs  issuing 
from  the  erevassed  rocks,  brooks  stealing  away  f"om 
dark  recesses,  runlets,  rills  and  streamlet?,  till  I  Z 
the  confederate  waters  became  a  formidable  river  w  i"h 

"tt  l!^\     T''  ""'^  ^"  '"'*°''^  ^Ses  there  has  been  no 

let  up     to  Its  merciless  and  tireless  onslaught  on  the 

porphyr-tic  and  sandstone  walls  that  in  the  dark  ages 

till  7Z  ^'  "PP"''  "  "S'"*  °f  ^^>-'  »°<1  i°to  their 
bre  sts  of  adamant  it  has  cut  a  frightful  gash  of  varying 
width  and,  m  places,  more  than  a  mile  deep.  This  aw 
ful  wound  IS  known  as  the  Gran  Bai-ranca,  and  with  il 
weird  settmgs  amid  terrifying  solitides  is  perhap  the 
greatest  natural  wonder  in  America  ' 

fl^^"  tf'J  ^^^  ^'"'"'  Canyon'of  Arizona,  and  am 
famihar  with  Niagara  Fails  and  its  wondrous  g^rge,  b„^ 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


15 


now,  that  I  have  returned  after  passing  eight  days  amid 
the  towering  peaks,  the  perpendicular  walls,  the  frightful 
abysses,  the  dark  and  gloomy  depths  of  precipitous  can- 
yons, and,  above  all,  the  immense  and  awful  silence  of 
the  Great  Barranca,  I  confess  I  feel  like  one  who  has 
come  out  of  an  opiate  sleep  and  doubts  he  is  yet  awake 
From  the  quaint  and  tropical  town  of  Guaymas  on  the 
Gulf  of  Califomia-stiU  called  by  the  Mexicans  the  Gulf 
of  Cortez— I  began  my  .ioumey  for  the  Gran  Barranca. 
A  mpanied  by  a  Mayo  guide  I  joined,  by  invitation, 
the  party  of  Don  Alonzo  Espinosa,  who,  with  his  son  and 
daughter,  was  leaving  to  visit  his  mine  in  the  La  Dura 
range.  With  us  went  four  rifle  bearing  Yaquis,  Chris- 
tianized members  of  the  fierce  mountain  tribe  that  has 
given  and  is  yet  giving  more  trouble  to  the  Mexican  gov- 
ernment than  all  the  Indians  of  the  republic. 

The  distance  from  Guaymas  to  the  Gran  Barranca 
IS  about  200  miles,  and  it  is  idle  to  say  that  through  these 
rough  mountain  lands,  there  are  no  railroads,  no  stages 
nor  indeed  facilities  for  tra>-el  save  on  foot  or  mule 
back.  Noble  and  serviceable  as  the  horse  may  be  no 
one  here  would  dream  of  trusting  his  life  to  him  on  the 
steep  and  narrow  trails  of  the  Sierras.  The  small  Mexi- 
can burro  or  donkey  is  as  wise  as  a  mountain  goat,  as 
sure  of  foot  as  a  Rocky  Mountain  sheep,  and  when  left 
to  himself  will,  day  or  night,  safely  carrj-  you  by  the 
run  of  the  most  dangerous  precipice.  We  left  Guaymas 
at  4  a.  m.  At  Canoncito  we  met  a  train  of  loaded  burros 
driven  by  men  cloathed  in  zarapes,  white  cotton  pants 
and  sombreros,  and,  like  ourselves,  taking  advantage  of 
the  early  morning  and  its  refreshing  coolness.  Now  and 
then  we  passed  a  solitary  "jackal"  or  hut  from  whose 
door  yelling  curs  sallied  forth  to  dispute  our  right  of 


16 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


I         '1 


way  We  were  now  entering  the  land  of  the  cactus,  that 
mysterious  plant  so  providentially  protected  against  the 
hunger  of  bird  or  beast.  Bristling  from  top  to  root  with 
innumerable  spmes  of  the  size  and  hardness  of  a  cam- 
bric or  dammg  needle,  the  Mexican  cactus  is  a  living 
manifestation  of  a  prescient,  omnipotent  and  divine  per- 
sonality. From  the  diminutive  singa,  which  grows  in 
waterless  regions,  and  whose  bark  when  chewed  gives  re- 
Uef  to  the  parched  tongue,  to  the  giant  Suhauro  towering 
to  he  height  of  forty  or  fifty  feet,  and  whose  pulp  hold! 
gallons  ot  water,  the  cactus  in  its  685  species  or  varieties 
bota^sT  ™'^  """^  °  fascinating  study  for  the 

q,-:^*  ^  M°'r!°°''  r  ^^^^  ^"^  hretiklast  at  the  home  of 
Signer  MathiasDura^,  an  old  and  hospitable  friend  of 
Don  Alonzo.    H  re  I  noticed  with  pleasure  and  edifica- 

outlived  r'^  -f  r  "^^  ^P*""''  «^^«'^S  ^'^ol'  has 
outUved  the  vicissitudes  of  time  and  modem  innovations. 

Mr.  Duran  was  standing  on  his  veranda  shouting  a 

welcome  to  his  friend,  who,  dismounting,  shook  hands 

hLv  ^"P  "''°'  '*'"  '""•''°«  ^''  eiiest's  hand,  spoke 
back:  Para  siempre  benidito  sea  Dios  y  la  siempre 
VirgmManaspaseaddante.   amigo   mio."    (Forever 

!d  «»  '^  I  T'  ""T'S  ^'•°'"  «f"'  this  language  sound- 
ed  as  an  echo  from  t'.e  Ages  of  Faith,  and  I  ma^elled  at 
the  colloquial  piety  and  childlike  simpUcity  of  these  cul- 
!n^iri  'f -^  8e°«emen.  Late  that  afternoon  we 
entered  the  tribal  lands  of  the  Yaqui.,  and  our  armed 
X.  ""T^^f"""*  somebodies  and  began  to  preen  them- 
selves on  their  courage  and  vigilance.  And  they  were  no 
ordinary  men,  these  civilized  Yaquis.    On  a  long  journey 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


17 


they  would  wear  down  any  four  men  of  the  Japhetic 
stock.  Of  sensitive  nostril,  sharp  ear  and  keen  eye,  noth- 
ing of  any  import  passed  unnoticed,  and  if  it  came  to 
a  brnsh  with  Mexican  "hold-ups"  or  mountain  bandits 
these  Indian  guards  could  be  trusted  to  acquit  themselves 
as  brave  men. 

Half  of  the  fierce  and  one  time  numerous  Yaquig  were 
long  ago  converted  to  Christianity  by  Spanish  priests 
and  have  conformed  to  the  ways  of  civilized  man.  They 
work  in  the  mines,  cultivate  patches  of  ground  and  are 
employed  on  the  few  rancheriaa  and  around  the  hacien- 
das to  be  found  in  Sonora.  Others  are  in  the  service  of 
the  government,  holding  positions  as  mail  carriers  and 
express  runners.  In  places  almost  inaccessible  to  man, 
in  eeries  hidden  high  up  in  the  mountains,  in  cul-de-sacs 
of  the  canyons,  are  mining  camps  having  each  its  own 
little  postoffice.  The  office  may  be  only  a  cigar  box 
nailed  to  a  post,  or  soap  box  on  a  veranda,  but  once  a 
week,  or  it  may  be  only  once  a  mouth,  the  office  receives 
and  delivers  the  mail.  Night  or  day  the  Yaqui  mail  run- 
ner may  come,  empty  the  box,  drop  in  his  letters,  and, 
like  a  coyote,  is  off  again  for  the  next  camp,  perhaps 
thirty  miles  across  the  mountains.  Clad  only  in  bullhide 
sandals  and  breechclout,  the  Yaqui  mail  bearer  can  out- 
run and  distance  across  the  rough  mountain  trails  any 
horse  or  burro  that  was  ever  foaled.  Don  Alonzo  tells 
me — and  I  believe  him — that,  before  the  government 
opened  the  road  from  Chihuahua  to  El  Eosario,  a  dis- 
tance of  500  Spanish  miles  (450  of  ours)  a  Tarahumari 
Indian  carried  the  mail  regularly  in  six  days,  and  after 
resting  one  day,  returned  to  Cbihualiua  in  the  same  time. 
The  path  led  over  mountains  from  4,000  to  6,000  feet 
high,  by  the  rim  of  deep  precipices,  across  bridgeless 


18 


BV  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


eaPnVtlo4";Lr'  """*''  "  """»  "riatlin,  with 

-dlTlS  "IrplS,^^^^  «ib,e  to 

?s  recorded  by  the  historkr  th'A  1°"^  °^  ^^^«^''"'-  « 
">K  of  the  Spaniards  a  Z'  a  ,17°  ""^^  ""^^  ">«  'and 
tona]  drawings  of  the  s  rl  ™  "'"'"*  "f  Ifcieo  pio 
«"ail  and  weapons  were  de^.*'"■^°^  '^''"  ^^ips,  hor^e 
~  by  express  r",S  ;,'"''' '''^^-'^  of  C: 
from  Vera  Cru^  to  t  l^e 'VT^'^  "^«  'li^tanee 
thirty-six  hours.    I,,  .,,  ,f  ,  eap,tal_2C3  miles-in 

ocean  8,000  feet   ...vlr        """,  ""-■^'  "^''onded  from  th« 

r=C"  ;:,-££"-.»'«.::;: 

narrow  passages  wl:en  Te  orr  ntial"™'  ''™"*''  '>^«'o 
oa  these  high  pealfs   anH  /.,  '"'""''  ^^re  abroad 

from  ledge  to  Lei  'sSed'V"""^''  ^'^eams.  iS 
our  heads  there  ros;  ttr  i  »  '"''^"^  «ood,  Abovf 
-*.  but  we  had  no  Lt  i'^f  .f^'  of  porphy^ 
danger,  no  fear,  no  ehill.  "^  "'  °o  foreboding  of 

;;here,r,:araIo;VeKs°;i  ,«™o  -untains, 
the  Meza  party,  leaving  Xir  if 'l"?'^  ^'^"Sl't^ed 

of  the  massacre  was  brought  toV^?-     '^"''-    ^^'  '^PoH 


BV  PATH   AND  TBAIL. 


19 


in  the  district,  accompanied  by  his  wife  and  daughters 
Senontas  Carmen,  Elvira,  Eloisa  and  Panchetta-si^-' 
Senoritas  Carmen,  Elvira,  Eloisa  and  Panchetta-sixteen 
eighteen,  twenty  and  twenty-three  years-left  Ouaymas' 
early  one  morning  for  La  Dura.  At  Ortiz  they  halted  for 
refreshments  where  they  were  joined  by  Senor  Theobold 
Uoff,  his  w,fe  and  son,  a  young  man  twenty-three  years 
oJd.  There  was  apparently  no  reason  for  alarm,  fo"r  the 
Mexican  troops  and  the  Yaqui  warriors  were  fighting  it 
out  eighty  miles  to  the  east. 

When  the  Indians  ambushed  them,  the  men  of  the  party 
charged  desperately  up  the  slope  to  draw  the  Yaquis' 
fire,  shouting  to  the  ladie.  to  drive  on  and  save  them- 
selves. The  women  refused  to  abandon  the  men,  and 
when  a  company  of  Mexican  Burales  (mounted  police)  ar- 
rived on  the  scene,  Pedro  Meza,  his  family  and  guests 
were  numbered  with  the  dead. 

f„;t'  f  fJ'°^r'  ".  "■""'""  '''^™  '°  S"'"^  "  "^rief  his- 
tory of  this  formidable  tribe,  I  confine  myself  here  to 
the  statement  that  the  Ya.jui.s  are  now  and  have  been  for 
the  past  three  hundred  years,  the  boldest  and  fiercest 
warriors  within  the  limits  of  Mexico  and  Central  Amer- 

1  passed  the  night  under  the  friendly  roof  of  Don 
Alonzo,  and  eariy  the  next  morning  with  my  Mayo  guide 
and  companion  continued  my  journev  to  the  Gran  Bar 
ranca  Far  away  to  the  southeast  towered  the  volcanic 
mount,  the  Sierra  de  los  Ojitos,  whose  shaggy  flanks  and 
heaving  ndges  are  covered  with  giant  pines,  and  on 
whose  imperial  crest  the  clouds  love  to  rest  before  they 
open  and  distribute  impartially  their  waters  between  the 
Atlantic  and  the  Pacitic,  through  the  Gulfs  of  Mexico 


20 


BY  PA-l.;  AND  TBAIL. 


M 


The  trn.l  now  becomes  steeper  and  nnrrower,  carryinK 
us  through  an  mspiring-  panorama  of  isolated  mountf 
.n  h«  H      ''°<^5°'''7'  bowlders  standing  here  and  there 
Iwil  t    r         r-l  r"'*""""!  confusion.     Stretchin" 
away  to  the  south  and  extending  for  hundreds  of  miles 
even  to  the  va  ley  of  Tierra  Blanca,  was  the  groat  con  fo 
rous  or  pme  forest  of  the  Sierras  Madres,  fhe  reser^Ls 
of  the  paleto  deer  the  feeding  grounds  of  tke  peccar^or 
w.ld  hog  and    he  haunts  of  the  mountain  bear  and  the 
sTeTr  ^7"=.''".''Pf «"  «Ker.    This  great  pine  ran^e 
s  the   argest  virgin  forest  in  North  America,  and  lor 

~Sior '"'  "''^-'  -''  ^""  -^°- '°  '- 

In  the  early  Miocene  age,  when  God  was  preparing 
nl        \:^'^l'""^'''«  "^  '"»»•  «^''  i'^*''^*  wild  r 

tinct  Ind  ^  1  ?*  ^™"°'  "'  "''«''*y  ""'"""^  "ow  ex. 
met  and,  r  a  later  period,  of  the  fierce  ancestors  of 
those  now  roaming  through  the  desolation  of  its  solitude. 
The  decay  of  forest  wealth  and  the  disintegration  of  Its 
animal  1,  e  eternally  going  on  have  superimposed  upon 
the  prim,  ive  soil  a  loam  of  inexhaustible  richness  Un- 
fortunately there  is  no  water  to  river  its  timber,  but 
when  the  t.me  comes,  as  come  it  will,  when  its  produce 
can  be  freighted  this  forest  will  be  of  incalcnlaWe  com 
mercia  value  to  Slexico,  and  as  profitable  to  the  republic 
as  are  her  enormously  rich  mines. 

The  mountains,  isolated  cones  and  the  face  of  the 
■and  as  we  proceeded,  began  to  assume  weird  and  fan- 
ta.s  ,c  shapes.  Wind  and  water  chiseling,  carving  and 
cuttmg  for  thousands  of  years,  have  produced  a  pano- 
r.  ma  of  architectural  deceptions  bewildering  to  man 
Those  soulless  sculptors  and  carvers,  following  a  mysto- 
nous  law  of  oriptir,  and  movemont.  have  evolved  frr,„ 


BV   PATH  AND  THAIU 


21 


the  sandstone  hills  an  amazing  series  of  illusions  and 
have  cut  out  and  fashioned  monumental  designs  of  the 
most  curious  and  fantastic  forms.  Here  are  battlen.ents, 
towers,  cathedrals,  buttresses  and  flying  buttresses 
Awny  to  our  left  are  giant  figures,  great  arches  and  ar^ 
chitravcs,  and  among  heaps  of  debris  from  fallen  col- 
umns  there  ,s  .lourishing  the  wonderful  madrona  or 
strawberry  tree,  with  blood-red  bark,  bright  green  and 
yellow  leaves,  and  in  season,  covered  with  waxen  white 
blossoms,  impossible  of  imitation  on  wood  or  canvas 

The  wild  turkeys  are  calling  from  cliff  to  cliff  and  the 
wilderness  is  yielding  food  to  them.  The  intense  silence 
weighs  upon  the  soul,  the  stupendous  hills  bear  to  the 
luind  a  sensation  of  awe  and  sublimitv.  I  look  around 
me  and  see  everywhere  titanic  mountains  roughly  garbed 
m  hoary  vegetation;  the  vision  carrys  me  back  to  a  for- 
mative  period  before  time  was,  "when  the  earth  was 
void  and  empty,  and  darkness  was  upon  the  face  of  the 
deep,  and  the  Spirit  of  God  moved  upon  the  waters  and 
said  let  land  appear." 

And  now,  as  we  advance,  the  scenery  suddenly  becomes 
grander  and  more  sublime,  surpassing  great  in  its  a^vful 
sohtude.  Its  tremendous  strength  and  terrifying  size 
The  spirit  of  man,  in  harmony  with  the  majesty  of  his 
surroundings  and  the  matchless  splendor  of  these  silent 
...onuments  to  God's  creative  power,  ought  to  expand 
and  grow  large,  but  the  soul  is  dwarfed  and  dominated 
by  the  sense  of  its  own  littleness  in  the  presence  of  the 
infinite  creative  Mind  which  called  from  the  depths  and 
gave  form  to  this  awful  materiality,  an<l,  down  through 
the  ages  there  comes  to  hi.n  the  portentous  call  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  "Where  was  thou,  0  man,  when  I  laid  the 


22 


BIT  PATH  AKD  I»AIL. 


foundat.on.  Of  the^e  hilla,  when  the  morning  Hta«  Han« 

together  and  ail  the  .„ns  of  God  shouted  for  joy  f"        * 

Late  m  the  afternoon  we  came  out  from  a  dense  fore.t 

of  thl^  "'"*''•  """^  "  ""'"'  ""^  """d  "Po-  the  very  edge 
of  the  precip.ce  and  gared  into  and  across  the  "Omn 
Barranca  "  My  position  was  on  a  broad  rock  platfom 
overhangmg  tlje  great  canyon,  and  from  it  iTookSd^wn 
a  sheer  three  housand  feet  to  where  the  palms  and  Zes 
meet  and  part  again.  Here  was  the  zone  of  separat  on 
the  p.ne  moving  up  to  the  "ticrra  fria,-  the  coWlanS' 
and  the  palm  sloping  down  to  its  own  home,  the  '-tUrra 
cMr  the  hot  land.  The  melancholy  u.urmur  of  le 
winds  ascending  from  the  sepulchre  of  the  silent  river 

lonclmess  more  oppressive.  From  the  table  of  iZ 
mountain    that    eloped   above   me   and   down    ,o       le 

f?e  "f  all':  '"'■",'  "^^^  ''*"'^'  -'  -  "^— 

r,»t.  *  ■  '^*  Churches,  so-called  from  the  weird 
architectural  monuments  carved  and  left  standing  in  the 
wilderness  by  the  erratic  and  mysterious  action  o?  the 
winds  intermittently  at  work  for  ages 

From  where  I  was  standing  the  mining  camp  of  El 
Hosar.0  appeared  as  if  pitched  in  an  open  plain  but  i 
i.  really  on  a  promontory  between  two  "barrancas"  or 

n  terraces  till  itmeeu  the  purple  mountains  of  Sahuar^ 
ipa.  Indeed  the  little  village  on  this  tremendous  ridgTis 
surrounded  by  lofty  mountains.  Looking  down  and  be 
yond  where  the  graceful  palms  have  placed  themselve  , 
just  where  an  artist  wonld  have  them  in  the  foreground 
of  h,8  picture,  the  view  is  a  revelation.  Far  away  is  the 
long  mountain  range,  gashed  with  ominous  wounds  out 


3Y  PATH  AKD  TRAIL. 


28 


of  which  in  leagon  strearuM  flow,  where  formidable  prom- 
ou  one.  reach  out,  and  peaks  and  cones  of  extinct  crater. 

nuies,  the  Jand  »  one  vu«t  tumultuous  mns.,  of  giant  bowl- 
ders  of  stubborn  -acti  and  volcanic  rocks.  Many  of  these 
erupted  rocks  still  carry  the  black  marks  of  the'flre  from 
Which  they  escaped  in  times  geologically  near 

How  many  thousand,  of  years,  we  know  not  since 
these  porphyntic  hills  were  heaved  up  and  wasto.l  to  a 
dark  wine  purple  or  these  adamantine  ledges  burned  to 
a  terra  cotta  orange.  Here,  scattered  along  or  cropping 
out  of  the  faces  of  the  towering  cliffs,  are  n.ctamorpl.ic 
rocks  and  conglomerates-slates,  shales,  syenites  and 
grit  stoncs-and  hero  nn,l  there  dust  of  copper,  brim- 

blackened  as  if  ox.di.cd  by  fire.  The  porphvritic  hills 
bear  ugly  marks  upon  tla-u-  si.lcs,  ci,.,tri.r,l  wounl,  re- 
ceived in  the  days  when  "the  deep  called  to  the  .loop  and 
the  earth  opened  at  the  voice  of  the  floodgates  " 


■  i    I 


CHAPTER  III. 

BATTLE  OF  THE  ELEMENTS. 

The  Gran  Barranca  or  Grand  Canvou  of  Sonora  is 
without  contradiction  one  of  the  great  natural  wonders 
of  the  earth.  It  is  not  known  to  the  outside  world;  it 
has  no  place  in  the  guide  books  or  in  the  geographies  of 
Mexico,  and  is  seldom  visited  by  men  possessed  of  a 
sense  of  admiration  for  the  sublime  or  appreciation  for 
the  wonderful  works  of  God.  The  Arctic  explorer,  Lieu- 
tenant G.  A.  Schwatka,  in  his  "  Gave  and  Clitif  Dwellers, ' ' 
devotes  a  chapter  to  the  awesome  region,  and,  so  far  ks 
I  know,  is  the  only  writer  who  has  ever  visited  and  re- 
corded in  English  his  impressions  of  the  great  canyon 
and  its  stupendous  setting. 

Nor  is  this  absence  of  information  to  be  considered 
something  surprising.  Sixty  years  ago  the  Grand  Can- 
yon of  Arizona  was  practically  unknown  to  Europe  and 
indeed  to  the  United  States.  Few  ever  heard  of  the 
stupendous  gorge,  and  of  these  few  there  were  those  who 
deemed  the  reports  of  its  wonders  greatly  exaggerated. 
Indeed,  Arizona  itself  half  a  century  ago  was  an  unex- 
plored and  unknown  land  to  the  great  mass  of  the  Ameri- 
can people.  Even  to-day  there  are  regions  of  the  im- 
mense territory  as  savage  and  unknown  as  they  were  one 
hundred  years  ago.  Back  of  the  mming  camps  in  the 
gulf  districts  and  the  river  lands  under  cultivation,  So- 
nora to-day  is  an  unsurveyed  and  indeed  an  unexplored 
land.  The  fighting  Yaquis  are  yet  in  possession  of  vast 
regions  of  Sonora,  and  until  they  surrender  or  are  con- 


26 


BY  PATH  AND  THAIL. 


^^^b,  the  .lexieans  there  wi,U,e  no  eivm.a.on  for 

modern  hotel  anH  th«  o„jt  *  railroad,  the 

shops,  the  hawkers  nf  »i>o        k     •   .  "'"ss.     ihe     euno 
1  ,  -uo  Hawsers  ot  sham  aboriginal  "finrta  "  fi,„    i 

™  ■'Sri;'*  "■  •""'  '-■"".  ■■■I  -w^ 

the  earth  thpZ    ^    i     "  ®-°'''  °''*"''«'  wonders  of 

..  i'i-  .t™  r  sr  tsr r:r 
Lr^rvt'rsF'*"^"-™^^^^^ 

regrets  and  protests?    Kismet    t  is  f^t  ''^^''  •""■ 

render  to  the  inevitable  ''and  to  Ll/!^  ""'  """''  "'"■- 
is  vain."  '     *°" '° '™«''t  tlie  consequence 

i~  iTp^ir^  "h^ror  ^"'''  ^-^^-^^'^  "^ 

Gran  Barranca  of  ttiv  '™<"'^"™'''''     "S^,  the 

^a..cence  an/Lit '^r:rSr;^j::;^^ 
-en  a  panorama  of  such  primitive  lovelinesland  of 


By  PATH   AND   TKAIL. 


27 


such  wild  and  imposing  appearance.  The  absence  of  all 
soand  was  startling,  and  the  sense  of  isolation  oppres- 
sive. Tennyson's  lines  in  his  "Dream  of  Fair  Women," 
visited  me : 


"There  was  no  motion  in  the  dumb,  dead  air, 
Nor  any  song  of  bird  or  sound  of  rill. 
Gross  darkness  of  the  inner  .sepulchre 
Was  not  so  deadly  still." 

In  heaven  or  on  earth  there  was  not  a  sound  to  break 
the  uncanny  stillness,  save  alone  the  solitary  call  of 
some  vagrant  bird  which  but  made  the  silence  more 
severe. 

Three  miles  to  westward  were  the  cones  of  the  Sierras 
throivn  up  and  distorted  by  refraction  into  airy,  fantas- 
tic shapes  which,  at  times,  altered  their  outlines  like  unto 
a  series  of  dissolving  views.  Above  them  all,  high  in  air; 
rose  the  Pico  de  Navajas,  now  veiled  in  a  drifting  cloud 
of  fleecy  whiteness,  but  soon  to  come  out  and  stand  clear 
cut  against  a  sapphire  sky.  Here  and  there  the  moun- 
tains were  cleft  apart  by  some  Titanic  force,  leaving 
deep,  narrow  gorges  and  wild  ravines,  where  sunlight 
never  enters  and  near  which  the  eye  is  lost  in  the  twilight 
of  a  soft  purple  haze.  With  a  field  glass  I  swept  the  ter- 
rifying solitude,  and  the  landscape,  expanded  by  the  lens, 
now  grew  colossal.  Around  me,  and  afar  off,  in  this  des- 
olation of  silence  and  loneliness,  stood  in  isolated  majes- 
ty, weird  architectural  figures,  as  if  phantoms  of  the 
imagination  had  materialized  into  stone.  Huge  irregu- 
lar shafts  and  bowlders  of  granite  and  gneissoid,  left 
standing  after  the  winds  and  rains  had  dissolved  the 
softer  sand  and  limestones,  assumed  familiar,  but  in 


m 


28 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


cafllf!?"  ^'  '""^  '^*  ^""^y  ^'''«''  Woomed  with  trom 

frozen  into  fririditv  a,  if  rf^  "Miocene  times  were 
billows  stifferan^C  a  .tt  "'  O  e'  l-'V^*  ''« 
plain  or  black,  igneous  matter   in  a  sk '  f'     r""'' 

..,     J-        ,  Sreat  mountains  were  hfava,}  „„ 

w^ading  the  region  of  the  clouds     AndtL    .    !.      ^' 

the  clouds  must  "win  out  "  f  !•   ,   f  '  "'""''"" 

ir^^hrr--'"--=^f 

with  restless  ener  J  ».'°^'  .  '^"P^^'-''«-ing    clouds, 

«ides,Uri;i:';  indSltd;:^  atdTh-'^''^. '"  T' 

into  towering  masses  nf  iJi   """"'■' """^  fashioning  them 

derful  fonnatiZ  '*'''  ''"'  architecturally  won- 

The  torrential  rains  and  melting  snows  have  rushed 


BV   PATH  AND  TB.\IL. 


29 


down  the  rugged  slopes  and  opened  ghastly  wounds  in 
the  sides  of  the  mountains.  These  wounds  are  the  deep 
gulches,  the  dark  ravines  and  abysses  of  horrent  and 
gloomy  depths  where  sunlight  never  enters.  The  run- 
lets, streams  and  hurrying  waters  were  rushing  to  a  com- 
mon meeting  and  as  they  fled  they  left  scars  on  the  face 
of  their  enemy  and  the  clouds  were  avenged.  And  when 
these  fluid  auxiliaries  met  together  each  one  of  them  car- 
ried to  the  common  center  large  contributions  of  silt 
and  sand,  spoils  torn  from  the  fee.  The  mountains  rolled 
huge  rocks  upon  their  enemies,  poured  liquid,  fiery  tor- 
rents of  molten  masses  which  hardening  into  metallic 
shrouds  covered  the  land  and  obliterated  the  courses  and 
beds  of  the  streams.  But  raw  auxiliaries  and  recruits 
came  from  the  region  of  the  clouds,  opened  new  chan- 
nels, massed  their  strength,  and  together  cut  mto  and 
through  the  great  mountains  a  frightful  gash  one  mile 
deep  and  many  miles  long.  Through  this  gash  flows  the 
Urique  river  as  blood  flows  from  a  gaping  wound,  and 
as  I  looked  down  and  into  the  dark  abyss,  I  thought  I 
saw  Kubla  Khan  gazing  into  the  gloomy  depths  of 
Anadu — 

Where  Alph,  the  sacred  river,  ran 
Through  caverns,  measureless  to  man, 
Down  to  the  silent  sea. 

Before,  above  and  around  me  was  a  panorama  of  un- 
surpassed sublimity,  a  tremendous  manifestation  of  the 
creative  will  of  God,  a  co-mingling  of  natural  wonders 
and  elemental  forces  proclaiming  to  man  the  omnipo- 
tence of  God  and  the  glory  of  the  Lord.  To  the  material 
mind  the  land  around  me  is  "desert  land,  a  place  of  hor- 
ror and  of  waste  wilderness,  which  cannot  be  sowed,  nor 


'it 


|i  !l 


30 


BV  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


From  the  granite  spur,  on  which  I  stonrt  Ti     .   j 
and  into  the  Gran  Barran<.r    I,  .  '        ""'^'^  "P"" 

Uri,ne,  int>  and  over  a7gr  n'd  a  view 'o  "'"°"  "'  ^"^ 
sculptured  rocks  and  devastation  of7  f^""""*^"' 
e.'er  the  eve  of  ^.r.      °  j"""''""  "^  Are  and  water  as 

GodtlSp^/tLTeaUfr  ^'  '^  '^^  ''"'^  °°  -'^"^ 
departing  sun  floods  the  Li       omnipotence,  where  the 


111 


BY   PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


31 


To  describe  the  stupendous  mountain  landscape  of  the 
Gran  Barranca  itself  transcends  the  possibilities  of  lan- 
guage. The  grandeur  of  the  panorama  and  the  massive 
ness  overwhelm  you,  and  though  the  mind  expands  with 
the  genius  of  the  place,  yet  piecemeal  you  must  break  to 
separate  contemplation  the  might  a^d  majesty  of  the 
great  whole.  Only  by  so  doing  may  the  soul  absorb  the 
elemental  glory  of  the  matchless  scene. 


<H   (! 


CHAPTER  IV. 


:itf-. 

■Til 


TALLET  OF  THE  CHURCHES. 

The  greatest  of  American  scenic  painters,  Thomas 
Moran,  roamed  for  three  months  through  the  Grand 
Canyon  of  Arizona,  making  sketches  of  the  strange  for- 
mations, catching,  as  best  he  could,  the  play  of  light  and 
shade  and  the  glory  of  the  sunsets  when  the  heavens 
were  bathed  in  chromatic  light.  Ho  went  home  and  fin- 
ished his  famous  painting,  "The  Grand  Canyon  of  the 
Colorado  River."  His  canvas  was  hung  in  the  capitol 
at  Washington — the  highest  recognition  of  his  genius  his 
country  could  confer  upon  him — yet  Moran  proclaimed 
that  it  was  impossible  for  man  to  paint  the  splendor  of 
the  canyon  when  the  heavens,  at  times,  are  turned  to 
blood. 

I  have  already  mentioned  that  the  porphyritic  moun- 
tains still  bear  the  marks  of  eleiiiontal  wars,  of  gaping 
wounds  opened  in  the  Titanic  combats  of  past  days. 
These  are  the  deep  ravines,  the  narrow  fissures  and 
strange  openings  left  when  the  mountains  were  wedged 
asunder,  or  when  torrential  storms  broke  upon  the  great 
hills  and,  forming  into  rivers,  tore  their  way  to  the  low- 
lands. 

In  those  remote  times,  gases  of  enormous  power  of 
expansion  were  imprisoned  in  the  wombs  of  these  moun- 
tains, then  air  and  water  entered,  the  gases  became  com- 
bustibile  and  were  converted  into  actual  flames,  till  the 
rocks  melted  and  the  metals  changed  to  vapors  and  the 
vapors  liquefied  and,  expanding  in  their  fierce  wrath, 


34 


By  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


J.   J: 


I'uist  asunder  the  walls  nt  ti,  • 
fou«ht  their  waytofreedoi  tL"""'"',''"'  ''"'^  «"d 
capmg  steam,  the  gleam  o"'  li«i?*„  '  "^  ""*  '''"  "^  ««- 
thunder,  the  molten  mass  in  ri„^°*  """^  ""^  ""»"  "^ 
d-vn  the  body  of  the  monst  ons  trV""'""""  '"'^'^ 
"I've  and  U„odi„g  the  land  „,,!  «  '  '"'""« ''^e  a  thing 
a;vfnl  cataclysm  fuch  a^  l^^tf "  "'"'  -'«""-•■  So.nf 
-we  and  in  the  land  of  th '•  1^^  ""''  "'"'"*''  '"  '!•« 
I»"iah  spoke  to  God.  l^^Z^T  'l '?  ""-'  "^"y'  ''hen 
thou  didst  terrible  thin;    ^      f  i",'  <^!  ^  P-'-  "  When 

~do.nand.henL;„tSarrX^ 

-f:::::::<S'S^:;^-:f.'''-errif,ing.ene.as 

""•  ot  great  auti.juit        r"     !-'*''y/"''  '^"'"tion  as  its 

a  vast  structure  of  adamant  ;fbV;;  '""'^'"^  ""^  ^  «"- 
«h.st,  traversed  by  dyC  of  H  .  '^'""•'^'  ^''''le  and 
the  waters  „f  ,i,e  i,ZtZ  *?""''  "'"t  were  old  when 
highest  mo^ti:f '"r  ^,  -"-JSed  the  domes  Zl 
hoary  ^,ith  age.  1  asked  -.LT?  *  ""S^'^y  hills, 
of  Solomon:  "Is  there  ntl'  of'  Tr'""'  '^"«^«'"' 
"ee,  this  is  new;  it  hath  aLe'rff  '  ''  "^^  ''"  '^'"^' 

was  before  usr-    The     eaS'.       "  "'  °'^  ""«  ^^^ch 
""equal  to  the  demand    of  "u^*   ^""''  "^  '^'  -"^-d  i^^ 
here  no  standard  ,dj„  ta  I     o  tT"*"'".^''  '"'  ""^^^  '» 
are   Illusive,  distances  are  decepl  L^r' '  P«^«P«<'tives 
changes  its  color.  shaDfi  nnH  c^'  ^°''   fonder   cliff 
'e«.^er  density  ap'prS  T  T  "'  "'""'''  "^  «r«-ter  or 
touch,  yet  the  Zer  stone  wh    f""  '"'"•  '"""'«t  unto 
^fallB  almost  at  yofrftt  foT  th     'y^  ''™"  *°--d  ^ 
beyond  yon.    From  the  floo/of  ^h     "  '^  '""  t'^"  >""«« 
«^t  of  yonder  hill ;«  twelve  L/,  ^  T"^""  *°  '^«  ^•™- 
"onument  in  America     To  1™ nil      '''''"  "'  ""«  '"""^t 
io  acquire  a  sense  of  intimacy 


BY    I'Alil   AKU   TKAIL. 


35 


With  this  Banuiu'u,  a  luentul  kiukp  of  ,li,tail  mid  u  per- 
ception of  its  iimiifiiHity,  jou  iiiu.st  dcs,.,.,,,]  the  sides  of 
the  granite  rode  whicli  walls  the  awful  depths.  To  the 
man  who  possesses  the  gift  of  appreciation  of  the  ter- 
rific 111  nature,  the  prospect  is  a  scene  of  surpassing 
splendor.  The  panorama  is  never  the  same,  although 
you  think  you  have  e.xamined  evcrv  peak  and  escarp- 
ment. 

Ah  the  angle  of  sunlight  changes  there  begins  a  shostly 
procession  of  colossal  forms  from  the  further  side,  and 
the  trees  around  you  are  silhouetted  against  the  rocks, 
and  the  rocks  themselves  grow  in  bulk  and  stature. 

Down  toward  the  lowlands  I  saw  thing.s,  as  if  alive 
raise  themselves  on  the  foothills.  These  are  the  giant 
Suaharos,  the  Candelabrum  cacti  and  beside  them  was 
the  yucca,  a  bread  tree  of  the  south,  whose  cream  white 
flowers  shone  across  the  stiakelike  shadows  of  the 
strange  cacti.  The  sepulchral  ([uiet  of  the  place,  the  con- 
scientiousness of  the  unnumbered  ages  past  since  time 
had  hoared  those  hills  and  the  absence  of  life  and  mo- 
tion fillec'  me  with  sensations  of  awe  and  reverence. 

When  darkness  shrouds  this  region  and  storms  of 
thunder  and  lightning  sweep  across  it,  penetrating  the 
cavernous  depths  of  the  great  gorge,  and  revealing  the 
desolation  and  frightful  solitude  of  the  land,  it  would 
be  a  fit  abode  for  the  demons  of  Dante  or  the  Djins  of 
the  southern  mountains  of  whom  the  woods  in '  other 
days  told  terrible  tales.  No  man,  after  his  sensations 
of  awe  have  vanished  and  his  sense  of  the  sublime  in 
nature  is  satisfied,  may  continue  to  gaze  upon  the  scene 
around  him,  and  yet  admit  that  his  mind  has  done  jus- 
tice to  the  magnificence  and  glory  of  this  panorama  of 
one  of  the  supremest  of  earth's  wonders.    To  absorb  iU 


i  >: 


36 


BY  PATH  AKO  TMASh. 


splendor  the  mmd  mu,t  become  familiar  with  the  genia. 
of  the  place,  recognize  the  influence  of  the  wind?  and 
.torm«  on  the  softer  material,  perceive  the  varUUon.  o5 
0  orH,  form«  and  trees,  till,  expanding  with  the  S  of 
the  mountains,  the  soul  itself  has  grown  colossal  or 

Till,  growing  with  its  growth,  we  thus  dilate 
Our  spirits  to  the  size  of  that  we  contemplate. 

it^nl'ilf""'  ^^J'o  «uide  I  camped  that  night  on  the  gran- 
te  platform  high  up  on  the  Gran  Barranca.    We  saw 
the  sun  descend  behind  the  great  hills,  the  fleecy  dour 
suspended  and  stationary,  take  on  the  Colors  of  fhe  solar 
spectrum,  the  star,  coming  out,  and  then-at  one  s  r  de 
came  the  night.    Early  next  morning  we  began  the  de 
scent  to  the  Valley  of  the  Churches.  \he  pafh  wis  na 
row  and  steep,  around  rocks  honeycombed  with  water 
or  eaten  mto  by  zoophytes.    It  twisted  here  and  th  re 
through  precipitous  deflles,  where  the  jagged  spurs  and 

onr^„* J  1  *  P""""""""-  ^'^  <=°"ti°ued  to  descend, 
arrovn«  f         ^^  """""^   '°'^'-     Pr<'i«<-tions,     across 

aftlin  *^  t^'Jo'-Ker  I'ne  of  the  abysses,  till  early  in  the 
afternoon  when  we  entered  the  mesa  or  table  land  whore 
n  a  huge  basin  reposes  "La  Arroyo  de  la,  IgleLias"- 

forms,  endlessly  varied  in  design,  and  at  times  painted 
n  every  color  known  to  the  palette,  in  pure  traufparent 
tones  of  marvelous  delicacy_a  shifting  diorama  of  c„,- 

rh];frmTer:rr"""^"'™=-^-^^-^« 

The  foliage  had  assumed  the  brilliant  colors  of  sum- 


m 


n  FATB  AXD  TIAIL. 


91 


mer,  and  from  the  mesa,  midway  betweeu  IW  mountains 
and  the  valley  of  the  L'rique,  the  season  was  marking,  on 
a  brilliant  chromatic  scale,  the  successive  zones  dl  vege- 
tation as  they  rose  in  regular  gradations  from  the  tropic 
floor.  The  atmosphere  had  the  crystHliiiie  triinsparency 
which  belongs  to  mountain  air,  and  through  it  the  scen- 
ery assumed  a  vividness  of  color  and  grandeur  of  out- 
line which  imparted  to  the  mind  ii  sousi-  (if  exultntitm. 

"Till  the  dilating  soul,  enwrapt,  trnnsfuscd 
Into  the  mighty  vision  passing  there 
As  in  her  natural  form,  swelled  vast  to  heaven. ' ' 

The  appearance  instantaneously  diselo.seil  wus  that  of 
an  abandoned  city,  a  wilderness  of  ruine<l  buildiusjs  left 
standing  in  an  endless  solitude.  It  was  a  phnnti.m  city 
within  which  a  human  voice  was  never  heard,  wli^re  coy- 
otes and  foxes  starved  and  where  scorpions,  tarantulas 
and  horned  toads  increased  and  multiplied. 

The  land  around  was  broken  into  terraces,  and  looked 
hke  a  city  — -c-.  i  'he  Goths  and  long  ago  .il.amloned. 
For  here  v,u  -  ■  ,,..  of  cathedral  spires,  of  towers, 
great  archf ,  auJ  uivu.Liai-es,  battlements,  buttresses  and 
flying  buttresses,  dismantled  buildings  and  wondrous 
domes.  There  are  times,  as  the  sun  is  dcplinini;,  when 
these  domes  and  cathedral  towers  glow  with  sheen  of 
burnished  gold  or  repose  'neath  a  coloring  of  soft  pur- 
ple or  a  mantle  of  fiery  vermilion. 

And  how  did  these  weird  and  ghostly  nmniiraents 
originate,  who  raised  them  in  this  wilderne-  mcl  when 
were  their  foundations  laid? 

Here  is  the  story  as  it  was  told  to  me.  When  a  nmss 
or  body  of  nir  becomr...  very  warm  fr?im  the  <lirpct  rays 


38 


BY  PATH  AND  IBAIL. 


i 


of  a  blazing  sun  or  by  contact  with  the  hot  sand  of  a 
great  plain,  it  looses  moisture  and  rapidly  ascends  to 
higher  regions  in  the  heavens ;  then  other  and  much  cold- 
er air  from  the  sea  or  surrounding  land  rushes  in  to  fill 
the  void,  and  as  this  new  atmospheric  sea  rolls  its  great 
waves  into  the  stupendous  space  partially  left  vacant 
by  the  disappearing  hot  air,  sand  and  grit  are  taken  up 
and,  with  violent  force  and  velocity,  carried  against  a 
projecting  cliff  of  soft  material,  separating  it  from  the 
parent  body ;  or  again,  a  great  sandstone  hill  may  stand 
solitary  and  alone  in  melancholy  isolation  surrounded  by 
hills  of  lesser  height  and  magnitude.  Then,  year  after 
year  and  century  after  century,  these  sand  blasts  cut  a 
little  here  and  a  little  there,  till  in  time  these  spectral 
forms  stand  alone,  and  from  afar,  resemble  in  their  deso- 
lation the  ruins  of  a  long-deserted  city. 

This  vast  amphitheater,  with  its  great  forest  of  monu- 
ments and  weird  structures,  surrounded  by  volcanic 
cones  and  walled  in  by  towering  monuments  is  a  part  of 
the  great  Barranca.  You  now  perceive  that  you  are  in 
a  region  of  many  canyons,  and  that  the  whole  face  of 
the  country  is  covered  with  wounds  and  welts,  and  with 
sharply  outlined  and  lofty  hills  of  gneiss  and  quartzite 
springing  from  the  floor  of  the  valley.  Beyond  contra- 
diction, earthquakes  and  volcanoes  at  one  time  shook  this 
place  with  violence.  Only  by  the  aid  of  an  airship  may 
the  Gran  Barranca  be  seen  in  its  majestic  entirety,  for 
much  of  it  lies  buried  in  the  vast  and  gloomy  abyss 
through  which  the  silent  river  flows  and  to  which  direct 
descent  is  impossible. 


CHAPTEB  V. 


1  ) 


PBIEND  OF  THE  MOUNTAIHEEB. 

When  I  passed  out  of  the  Arroyo  of  the  Churches, 
it  was  well  on  in  the  afternoon  and  the  sun  beat  intensely 
hot  upon  the  steep  trail,  while  the  whole  atmosphere  was 
motionless  and  penetrated  with  heat.  No  man,  exper- 
ienced in  mountain  trails,  would  trust  his  life  down  these 
precipitous  windings  to  the  best  horse  that  ever  car- 
ried saddle.  The  long  suffering  "burro"  or  donkey, 
with  the  pace  of  a  snail  and  the  look  of  a  half  fool,  may 
be  a  butt  for  the  slings  and  arrows  of  outrageous  f ortuae 
in  animal  histories;  he  may  be  ridiculed  and  despised  in 
citi.es  and  on  the  farm,  but  in  the  mountains,  amid  dan- 
gerous curves  and  fearful,  dipping  trails  the  donkey  ife 
king  of  all  domestic  animals. 

The  burro  is  not,  as  Sunday  school  books  picture  him, 
the  clown  and  puppet  of  domestic  beasts.  He  is  the  most 
imperturbable  philosopher  of  the  animal  kingdom,  the 
wisest  thing  in  his  own  sphere  in  existence,  and  the  best 
and  truest  friend  of  the  mountaineer.  He  is  a  stoic 
among  fatalists,  a  reliable  staff  in  emergencies  and  an 
anchor  of  hope  in  dangerous  places.  Like  the  champion 
of  the  prize  ring,  Joe  Gans,  or  the  sporting  editor's 
"king  of  the  diamond  turf,"  Cy  Young,  the  donkey 
"neither  drinks,  nor  smokes,  nor  chews  tobacco;"  in  a 
word,  he's  a  "brick." 

The  greatest  avalanche  that  ever  thundered  down  the 
sides  of  the  Matterhorn,  the  loudest  detonation  of  vol- 
canic Vesuvius,  the  roll  and  heave  and  twist  of  Peruvian 
earthquake;  any  one  of  these  or  all  of  them  "in  damna- 


40 


BV  PATH  AND  IBAU^ 


ble  conspiracy"  could  not  turn  a  hair  on  the  hide  of  his 
serene  equanimity.   No  mountain  goat,  leaping  from  rock 
to  rock,  can  give  him  pointers.    He  is  contentment  and 
self-possession  personified;  he  wiU  eat  and  digest  what 
a  mule  dare  not  touch  and  will  thrive  where  a  horse  wiU 
starve.    Work  J    I  have  seen  hUls  of  fodder  moving  on 
the  highway  and  thought  with  Festus   that   too  much 
learning  had  made  me  mad,  tUl  on  closer  examination  I 
perceived,  fore  and  aft  of  these  hiUs,  enormous  ears  and 
scrawny,  wriggling  talis  and -under  the  hills  little  hoofs 
the  size  of  ordinary  ink  bottles.    Down  the  dangerous 
mountain  traUs  his  head  is  always  level,  his  feet  sure 
as  those  ot  flies  and  his  judgment  unerring.    His  mus- 
cles and  nerves  are  of  steel,  his  blood  cool  as  quicksilver 
in  January,  and  his  hold  on  life  as  tenacious  as  that  of 
a  buffalo  cat.    But  more  than  all  this,  the  burro  is  one  of 
the  pioneerr  and  openers  of  civilization  in  Mexico  and 
the  Southwest.    Patiently  and  without  protest  or  com- 
plaint he  has  carried  the  packs  of  the  explorers,  pros- 
pectors  surveyors  and  settlers  of  miinhabited  plateaus 
and  highlands     With  his  endurance,  his  co-operation  and 
reliability,  it  became  possible  to  profitably  work  the  sU- 
ver  mines  of  Mexico  and  the  copper  mines  of  Arizona. 
He  helped  to  build  railroads  over  the  Sierras  and  across 
the  plains  and  deserts  of  New  Mexico,  California  and 
Arizona.     He  brought  settlers  into  New  Mexico,  into 
Arizona  and  the  Pacific  lands,  and  with  settlers  came 
progress  and  development,  peace,  education  and  pros- 
perity.    Therefore,  all  hail  to  the  burro!     In  grateful 
recognition  of  his  kindness  to  me  I  owe  him  this  commen- 
datory tribute.     He  has  done  more  for  civilization  in 
these  lands  than  many  a  senator  in  the  halls  of  the  Capi- 
tol or  LL.  D.  from  the  chair  of  Harvard. 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL.  .. 

We  descended  to  the  land  of  "r  ».  xt 
orange  orchards  and  banana  Z  ^aranjos,"  of  the 

netting  entered  t^mZJne2""^''  *'^  ^"^  ^"^ 
Urique.  Pounded  the7earrh„™1  "°"'"*  ""™  "^ 
St.  Lawrence  and  e  eht  vearf  h  f  ""'u  ""*  ^""^^  ^^^ 
ers  landed  on  P.^niS  oe\  vZL\:  '""""'"  ^^'^- 
wagon,  cart,  carriage  or  bicycle  t,  T  ""'""'  ''"'"^ 
of  3,000  souls,  moslly  Ind  ?nJ       rJ''^'"  Population 

has  few  want    and  no  ambition  f     "'r"  '''"'""^'«'' 
higher  life     Tf  thl        "™'"'""'  ^or  what  we  call  the 

PeLandhap  LSi:«Lrrldt:   '"'•  ™"'-'-"'' 
are  wiser  in  their  genemtiriLl         '';""'""'' P^°P'« 

that  among  the  civiLed  C  half  "ivlir  .   """•'*  '"'"''' 
leo  I  found  ■,  nh«„,f  .        •  "vilized  races  of  ?,rex 

than  I  erptitt";3c:d°':  r  t-  """'-'-"t 

domestic  lif.  leads  r^  S lU  tf  ""7"''°'^ 
much  more  equitable  rii=t,;i,  !         ,     *  *''*'"^  "^  here  a 
»ess  than  in  mu  Kust  Jl?  ,tr '  "^  '=''"  '^^PP'' 
The  fertility  of  the  arable  °an7L'"''"r'  "'^  ''''°""•'■ 
climate,  the  abundance  of  ^-Id'  "\"  ^°°t'°"ously  warm 
the  simple  life  of  the  people  al/h      "l"""'^""  *'^""  ""^ 
dangerous  associations     I   wo^wt      n^""'-^  '""^  »^ 
ns  if  we  could  change  places  IntW.,     ""*"  ^"^  """y  »' 
a  time  the  life  of  rufh  a'nd  hur^l'Sl"  f/^^,'.  ''""  '"' 
which  we  of  the  North  hav»  T  v!T       "^"'''"'S '"t" 
dreamy,  placid  and  uneveTfu?  fj'f  ""^  ''''^  "^  '^" 

what  we  are  pleased  trtemllil"'-    .'""^  ''^P''''* 
not  happier  in  their  iJlT        fJ*^'"''"''^'  hut  are  they 

and  are  not  we  of Th Xrth'at 'l".  T  "  ""^  "'''^°-' 
rience  the  truth  of  what  Sn.'  '  ^'^"'■''»  ''^  ^"P^" 

old,  "For  in  much  ll™  „?  ?""  .'"''  '"  *''^  <^''>-«  "^ 

The  dehghtful  httle  gardens  and  patches  of  vegeta- 


42 


BY  PATH  AKD  TRAIL. 


ble  land  stolen  from  the  mountain  present  a  dozen  con- 
trasts of  color  in  the  evergreen  foliage  of  the  tropical 
trees  and  vegetable  plants.  The  red  river  of  the  Urique, 
after  emerging  from  the  great  canyon,  flows  gently  and 
placidly  through  the  peaceful  village.  The  river  is  not 
truly  a  deep,  clay  red — not  the  red  of  shale  and  earth 
mixed — bnt  the  red  of  peroxide  of  iron  and  copper,  the 
sang-du-boeuf  of  Oriental  ceramics.  Rushing  over  ir- 
regular beds  of  gravel  and  boulders  and  by  rock-ribbed 
walls,  it  cuts  and  carries  with  it  through  hundreds  of 
miles  red  sands  of  shale,  granite  and  porphyry,  red  rust- 
ings  of  iron  and  grits  of  garnet  and  carnelian  agate. 

The  evening  c  i  the  next  day  after  entering  the  quaint 
and  picturesque  lown,  I  stood  on  a  ledge  overlooking 
the  narrow  vailey  and  again  saw  the  long,  snake-like 
shadows  of  the  Suaharos  creeping  slowly  up  the  side  of 
the  opposite  mountain.  The  air  was  preternaturally  still 
and  was  filled  with  the  reflected  glory  of  the  departing 
sun.  The  sky  to  the  east  was  like  a  lake  of  blood,  and 
under  it  the  ancient  mountains  were  colored  in  deep  pur- 
ple and  violet.  The  sun  was  an  enormous  ball  of  fire 
floating  in  the  descending  heavens  and  above  it  were 
banks  of  clouds  through  which  flashes  of  bloody  light 
came  and  at  times  hung  to  their  fringes.  Just  before 
the  sun  plunged  behind  its  own  horizon  its  light  pene- 
trated the  motionless  clouds  in  spires,  and  when  the  sun 
dipped  and  was  lost,  the  spires  of  glory  quivered  in  the 
heavens  and  waves  of  red  and  amber  light  rolled  over 
the  atmospheric  sea.  Sharply  outlined  to  my  right  was 
the  mountain  rising  above  the  Urique  like  a  crouching 
lion  and  holding  in  its  outstretched  and  open  paw  the 
unknown  and  attractive  little  village. 
It  is  only  nine  of  the  night,  but  all  lights  are  out  and 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


43 


the  village  sleeps.    My  window  is  open,  I    can  hoar  the 
flow  of  the  Urique,  and  as  I  listen  to   ts  gurgling  waters 
a  cock  crows  across  the  river.    The    crow    of  the  cock 
changes  my  thoughts  which  carry  me  back  three  years, 
and  bear  me  to  a  room  of  the  "seaside  cottage"  in  the 
negro  town  of  Plymouth,  Montserrat,West  India  Islands 
Unable  to  sleep  I  am  seated  at  my  open  window  looking 
out  upon  the  tragic  waters  of  the  Caribbean  sea     The 
moon  swings  three-quarters  full  in  a  cloudless  sh.;  the 
air  I  breathe  briut-:  to  me  a  suspicion  of  sulphur  es- 
capmg  from  the  open  vents  of  La  Soufrlere,  the    vol- 
came  mount  rising  to  the  west  and  dangerously  near  the 
negro  village.    I  can  hear  the  wash  of  the  waves  combing 
the  beach  and  see  the  "Jumbo  lights"  in  the  windows  of 
the  negro  cabins  to  remind  the  ghosts  of  the  dead  and 
the  demons  of  the  night  that  friends  .ire  sleeping  there. 
It  IS  2  o'clock  in  the  morning,  a  sepulchral  quiet  possesses 
the  uncanny  place,  when— the  cock  crows.    Then  from 
out  a  large  hut,  down  the  shore  street,  there  conies  a 
negro  well  on  in  years,  followed  by  a  young  negress,  iwo 
women  and  three  men.    They  do  not  speak,  nor  shake 
hands,  they  exchange  no  civilities,  they  separate  and  dis- 
appear.   Who  were   they?    Snake   worshipers.     Great 
Britam  owns  the  island  and  British  law  prohibits,  under 
penalty,  the  adoration  of  the  serpent.     Stronger  than 
the  law  of  Great  Britain  is  the  law  of  African  supersti- 
tion and  the  fear  of  the  demon  that  dwells  in  the  white 
snake,  so  reverently  guarded  and  fed  by  the  familv  who 
live  in  the  hut.    Again  the  cock  crows.    Where  am  It 
Oh,  in  Uriqne.    There  is  no  noticeable  difference  in  the 
crow  of  the  cock  the  world  over.     This  friendly  bird 
from  over  the  Urique  river  warns  me  it  is  getting  late. 
I  must  to  bed,  so,  "Good  night  to  Marmion." 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE  BUNNERS  OP  THE  SIEEBA. 

If  there  be  any  state  in  the  Kepublie  of  Mexico  about 
which  It  18  difficult  to  obtain  accurate  or  exact  statistics, 
It  IS  Sonora.    Populated  largely  by  Indians  and  miners, 
scattered  over  the  whole  state  and  immune  to  the  salu- 
tary influence  of  law,  it  is  difficult  to  take  its  census  or 
bring  Its  population  under  the  restraining  checks  of  civ- 
ilization.   Hermosillo,  with  its  25,000  people,  is  numeri- 
cally and  commercially  the  most  important  town  in  So- 
nora.   It  IS  110  miles  north  of  Guaymas.    The  harbor  of 
Guaymas  is  one  of  the  best  on  the  Pacific  coast,  it  is 
tour  miles  long,  with  an  inner  and  outer  bay,  and  will 
admit  ships  of  the  heaviest  tonnage,  and  could,  I  think 
float  the  commerce  of  America.     The  Yaqui  river,  of 
which  I  will  have  occasion  to  write  at  another  time  en- 
ters the  Gulf  of  California,  called  the  Gulf  of  Cortein  by 
the  Mexicans— eighteen  miles  below  Guaymas.    The  So- 
nora flows  through  the  Arizipa  valley,  which  is  known  as 
the  Garden  of  Sonora  on  account  of  its  incomparable  fer- 
tihty.    Formerly  it  was  dominated  by  the  terrible  Ya- 
quis  and  a  few  years  ago  the  depopulated  villages  and 
ranches  were  melancholy  reminders  of  the  rutlUess  ven- 
geance of  these  ferocious  men. 

The  Sonora  river  valley,  with  its  wealth  of  rich  allu- 
vial land.  Its  facilities  for  irrigation  and  adaptation  to 
semi-'  ,  .ical  and  temperate  fruits  and  cereals,  will 
eventually  support  a  great  population. 

That  the  valley  and  adjacent  lands  were  in  ancient 
days  occupied  by  a  numerous  and  barbaric— not  savage— 


46 


BY  PATH  AHD  TRAIL. 


race,  there  can  be  no  donbt.  Scattered  over  the  face  of 
the  country  are  the  remains  of  a  people  who  have  long 
ago  disappeared.  Many  of  the  ruins  are  of  great  extent, 
covering  whole  table  lands,  and  are  crumbling  away  in 
groups  or  in  single  isolation.  Unfortunately,  no  docu- 
ments are  known  to  exist  to  reco  1  the  traditions  of  the 
ancient  people  before  the  Spanish  missionary  fathers 
first  began  the  civilization  of  the  tribes  400  years  ago. 
When  the  early  Jesuit  missionaries  were  called  home,  the 
archives  and  everything  belonging  to  the  missions  were 
carried  away  or  destroyed.  It  is,  however,  possible  that 
a  search  through  the  libraries  of  the  Jesuit  and  Francis- 
can monasteries  in  France  and  Spain  may  yet  reward 
the  historian  with  some  valuable  finds. 

From  an  examination  of  the  sites  and  the  ruins,  scat- 
tered here  and  there  in  the  Sonora  valley,  I  am  satisfied 
that  the  ancient  dwellers  were  a  sedentary  and  agricul- 
tural people;  that  they  were  of  the  same  race  as  the  .Mold 
and  suffered  the  same  fate  as  that  picturesque  trioe,  and 
from  the  unsparing  hand  of  the  same  merciless  destroy- 
ers, the  Apache- Yaqnis.  Long  before  the  time  of  Cortez 
the  evil  fame  of  the  unconquerable  Yaqnis  had  settled 
around  the  throne  of  the  Montezumas.  There  is  a  tra- 
dition that  after  the  Spanish  chief  had  stormed  the  City 
of  Mexico  and  made  a  prisoner  of  the  Aztec  ruler,  Mon^ 
tezuma  said  to  him:  "You  may  take  possession  of  all 
my  empire  and  subdue  all  its  tribes— but,  the  Yaqui, 
never."  To-day  the  Sonora  valley  is  wet  with  the  blood 
of  slaughtered  settlers.  Formerly  these  fierce  men  con- 
fined their  depredations  to  the  Sonora  valley  and  the 
Yaqui  river  regions,  but  the  members  of  the  tribe  are 
now  scattered  over  northern  and  central  Sonora,  the 
fighters,  however,  live  in  the  Bacatete  mountains    and 


BY  PATH  AND  IBAIL. 


47 


part^  ofthe  Sierras.    One-half  of  them  are  partially  civ- 
a  gnernlla  war  m  the  mountainous  regions.  These  moun- 

and  tur^trtr'  ?*''*"^'^  '"'«'  "'  <^-»  »'^-«- 
and  inured  to  the  extremes  of  heat,  cold,  and  hunger 

They  have  no  fear  of  anything  or  anybody  excent  1h- 

rrait'  :r  """^  -"^^^  anTcaiL^r ;': 

them    and  the  "shamans,"  or  medicine  men,  who  act 

Their  wild  isolated  and  independent  life  has  given  to 
the  Yaquis  all  those  characteristic  traits  of  perff^Iself" 
rehance  of  boldness  and  impatience  of  restrl^fwh   h 

tt^e'^trth'"  'r.*'^  ^^°^ ""''  "*''-  -1-i  y 

tribes  of  northern  Mexico.  Born  in  the  mountains  thov 
are  familiar  with  the  woods  and  trails.  No  coyote  if  the 
rocks  knows  his  prowling  grounds  better  than  a  YaS 
he  secrets  of  the  Sierra  wilderness.  Like  the  eagleT 
sweeps  down  upon  his  prey  from  his  aerie  aS  the 
clouds,  and,  like  the  eagle,  disappears 

wiS'^hu"',"''  ^fy  "'"'•"^^  ""  ^tl-^^  ot  steel,  and 
wear  down  a  mountain  deer.  With  the  possible  exceo- 
bon  of  his  neighbor  and  kinsman,  the  Tarahumari  of  th^ 
Chihuahua  woods,  he  is,  perhaps,  the  greatest  long  dt 
tance  runner  in  America 

r,nZTt^f^'  I'T^^""  ''°''**'*'  ^^'^  Pla<=«  between  the 
noted  atUetes  of  the  two  tribes.    Six  years  ago  a  Tara 
human  champion  challenged  one  of  the  greftest  Int 
distance  runners  of  the  Yaquis.    In  a  former  contest  the 

JuaTtoTof""  ""'    ^V''''''  ^'^  ^P-'^l"  -'- 
equal  to  90  of  ours,  over  hilly  and  broken  ground   in 

eleven  hours  and  twenty  minutes.    Comparinf  tills  pel^ 


fi 


48 


BT  PATH  ASD  TBAIL. 


formonce  with  those  of  civilized  man  in  ancient  and  mod- 
ern times,  the  Yaqni,  all  things  considered,  wins  the  lau- 
rel crown.    Pliny  records  that  Anystrs,  of  Sparta,  and 
I  hilonedes,  the  herald  of  Alexander  the  Great,  divid- 
ing the  distance  between  them,  covered    ICO    miles    in 
twenty-four  hours.    Herodotus  tells  us  that  Phieddip- 
pides,  the  pan-Hellenic  champion,  traversed  135  miles 
over  very  rocky  territory,  and  in  gruelling  weather,  in 
less  than  two  days,  carried  to  Sparta  the  news  of  the 
advancing  Persians.    He  almost  attained  an  apotheosis 
m  reward  for  his  endurance,  showing  that,  even  among 
the  athletic  Greeks  the  feat  was  deemed  an  extraordi- 
nary performance.  History  also  credits  Areus  with  win- 
ning the  Dolichos,  of  two  and  a  half  miles,  in  a  fraction 
less  than  twelve  minutes,  at  the  Olympic    games,  and 
straightway  starting  on  a  homeward  run  of  sixty  miles, 
to  be  the  first  to  bear  the  joyous  news  to  his  native  vil- 
lage.   In  recent  times,  Howell,  of  England,  in  1882,  trav- 
eled 150  miles  in  twenty-two  hours  and  thirty  minutes, 
and  Fitzgerald,  in  Madison  Square  Garden,    went,    in 
1886,  on  a  quarter-mile  circular  track,  ninety  miles  in 
hfelve  hours.    Longboat,  the  Oneida  Indian  from   the 
Brentford  reservation,  Canada,  won  the  Boston  Mara- 
thon, twenty-six  miles,  in  two  hours  and  twenty-four 
minutes.      These  modem  feats,    however,    were     per- 
formed over  carefully  prepared  courses  and  ought  not 
to  take  rank  with  the  rough  mou-  'lin  and  desert  races 
of  the  Yaqnis  and  Tarahumaris. 

The  race  of  six  years  ago  was  run  over  the  same 
course  as  the  former,  and  was  the  same  distance,  that  is, 
ninety  miles.  Piles  of  blankets,  bridles  and  saddles, 
bunches  of  cows,  sheep,  goats  and  burros  were  bet  on 
thb  result,  and,  when  the  race  was  over,  the  Yaqui  bravea 


ill 

•I 


— Coprrlght  by  Uadrrwood  *  Underwood,  Ntw  York. 

TARAHDHARI  INDIANS,  NOBTUBBN  UBXICO 


By  PATH  AND  T»A1L.  49 

were  bankrupt     The  night  before  tho  «vent  the  Indian, 
camped  near  the  starting  line,  and  wiitn  the  »un  went 
down  opened  the  betting.    An  liour  before  the  .tart  tho 
cour.e  wa«  lined  on  each  side  with  men  two  miles  apart. 
Precisely  at  4  in  tho  morning  tho  racers,  wearing  bull- 
hide  KHndals  and  breech-clouts,  or,  to  be  more  accurate, 
the  0  string,  toed  the  mark  and  were  sent  awav,  e.four- 
aged  by  tlie  most  extraordinary  series  of  hi-yi-iiis  yells 
-hrieks  and  guttural  shouts  ever  heard  by  civiii.ed  man' 
Ihe  path  carried  them  over  rough  ground,  ulong  the 
verge  of  deep  precipices,  over  arroyos  or  old  river  beds 
across  and  sands.    Every  two  miles  the  run,.or.s  stopped 
for  a  quick  rub  down  and  mouth  wash  of  pi„ola  or  atole 
a  com  meal  gruel.    Then  with  u  "  win  for  the  Ya.,ui«  • '  or 
the  Human  women  already  welcome  vou,"  whispered 
in  his  ear,  the  runner  bounds  into  the  wilderness.    Three 
0  clock  that  afternoon  the  men  were  sighted  fr.nu  the 
flnish  line  running  .shin  to  shin,  and  at  .•):!,■>  the  Tarahu- 
man  crossed  the  mark  amid  a  chorus  of  triumphal  veins 
retrieving  the  honors  lost  in  the  former  contest  and"  mak- 
ing l"s  "ackers  "heap  rich."     The  ninety  miles  were 
run  by  both  men  in  eleven  hours  and  fifteen  minutes,  and 
cons.denng  the  nature  of  the  ground,  it  is  doubtful  if 
any  of  our  great  athletes  could  cover  the  distance  in  the 
same  time. 

In  addition  to  his  fleetness  of  foot  and  staying  powers 
the  laqui  IS  a  man  of  infinite  resources.  Years  of  thirst 
starvation  and  exposure  have  produced  a  human  tvpJ 
with  the  qualities  and  developed  instinct  of  the  coyote 
of  the  desert.  He  is  the  descendant  of  manv  gener- 
ations of  warr.ors,  and  is  heir  to  all  the  ac,,uired  infor- 
mation of  centuries  of  experience,  of  bush,  desert,  and 
mountain  fighting.    There  is  not  a  trick  of  strategy,  not 


50 


BY  PATH  ABD  IBAIL. 


a  bit  of  savage  tactics  in  war,  not  a  particle  of  knowledge 
bearing  upon  attack,  engagement  and  escape,  with  which 
he  is  not  famiUar,  for  he  has  been  taught  them  all  from 
infancy,  and  has  practiced  them  from  boyhood.  He  is 
the  last  of  the  Indian  fighters,  and,  perhaps,  the  greatest. 
The  world  will  never  again  see  a  man  like  him,  for  the 
conditions  will  never  again  make  for  his  reproduction. 
With  him  will  disappear  the  perfection  of  savage  cun- 
nmg  in  war  and  on  the  hunt,  and  when  he  departs,  an 
unlamented  man,  but  withal  a  picturesque  character,  will 
disappear  from  the  drama  of  human  life,  will  go  down 
into  darkness,  but  not  into  oblivion. 

What,  then,  is  the  cause  of  the  murderous  and  pro- 
longed hostility  of  the  Yaquis  to  Mexican  rule  I  Why  is 
the  exterminating  feud  aUowed  to  perpetuate  itself,  and 
why  are  not  these  Indians  subdued?  Must  Sonora  be 
forever  teirorized  by  a  handful  of  half-savage  mountain- 
eers, and  must  the  march  of  civilization  in  Sonora  be  ar- 
rested by  a  tribe  of  Indians? 

To  get  an  answer  to  these  questions  I  asked,  and  ob- 
tamed  an  interview  with  General  Lorenzo  E.  Torres 
commander  in-chief  of  the  First  Militarv  Zone  of  Mex- 
ico. With  my  request  I  inclosed  my  credentials  accredit- 
ing me  as  a  person  of  some  importance  in  his  own  coun- 
try and  a  writer  of  some  distinction. 

Although  the  general's  time  was  filled  with  important 
military  affairs  and  another  engagement  awaited  him,  he 
received  me  with  that  courtesy  and  politeness  which 
seem  to  be  an  inheritance  of  the  educated  members  of 
the  Latm  race  the  world  over.  Though  a  man  of  fuU 
60  years,  the  general  appears  to  retain  all  the  animation 
and  vitality  of  the  days  when,  by  his  impetuosity  and 
dauntless  courage,  he  won  his  brevet  at  Oajaoa,  and  the 


BY  PATH  AND  IBAIL. 


51 


tassels  of  a  colonel  on  the  field  of  Mien.  To  the  physical 
buoyancy  and  elasticity  of  younger  days  were  now  wed- 
ded the  conscious  dignity  of  high  reward  and  the  no- 
Mity  of  facial  expression  which  waits  on  honorable  age 
After  an  exchange  of  introductory  courtesies,  I  made 
Known  at  once  the  purport  of  my  visit 

"General   would  ycu  kindly  give  me  some  informa- 
tion about  the  Yaquist    In  my  country  we  have  heard 
the  evidence  of  one  side  only,  and  that  was  not  always 
favorable  to  the  Mexican  government.     We  would  be 
pleased  to  kno     the  truth,  .  ,  as  to  be  able  to  form  a 
just  and  impartial  judgment."    The  general  very  oblig- 
ingly proceeded  to  satisfy  my  request 
^_  "The  fend  with  the  Yaquis,"  he  smilingly   replied, 
goes  back  many  years.    The  trouble  began  in  the  days 
of  the  conquest  of  Mexico.    In  1539,  when  the  Spaniards 
first  crossed  the  Mayo  river,  and  penetrated  the  lands  of 
the  Yaquis,  they  found  them  entrenched  on  the  banks 
of  the  Yaqm  river,  awaiting  the  advance  of  the  Euro- 
peans  and  ready  for  battle.    Their  chief,  robed  in  the 
skin  of  a  spotted  tiger,  profusely  decorated  with  colored 
shells  ana  the  feathers  of  the  trogon,  stepped  to  the  front 
of  lus  warriors,  drew  a  line  upon  the  ground  and  defied 
the  Spaniards  to  cross  it.    The  Spanish  captain  protest- 
ed that  he  and  his  men  came  as  friends ;  they  were  simply 
exploring  the  comitry,  and  all  they  asked  for  or  wanted 
was  lood  for  themselves  and  horses. 

"  'We  will  first  bind  your  men  and  then  we  will  feed 
y^nr  horses,'  was  the  answer  of  the  Yaqui  chieftain. 
While  he  was  yet  speaking  he  unwound  a  cougar  lariat, 
and  advanced  as  if  he  intended  to  rope  the  Castilian  of- 

t7\,     ^1  ""'^^''  ''«"'"  ^°'  »  1"-"  engagement,  which 
ended  in  the  retreat  of  the  Spaniards.    Later,  in  1584 


'i  m 


52  BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 

Don  Hartinez  de  Hurdiade  tried  to  conquer  them,  and 
was  defeated  in  three  separate  campaigns.  However, 
strange  to  relate,  in  1610,  the  Yaquis,  of  their  own  ac- 
cord, submitted  to  the  Crown  of  Spain." 

"Are  they  braver  and  better  fighters,  general,  than 
the  other  tribes  now  at  peace  with  the  republic  1"  "I 
think  they  are,"  replied  Don  Lorenzo.  "Mountaineers 
are  everywhere  stubborn  fighters.  At  any  rate,  for  the 
past  fifty  years  they  have  given  us  more  trouble  than 
all  the  Indians  in  Mexico  and  Yucatan.  Don  Diego  Mar- 
tinez, in  his  report,  made  mention  of  the  indomitable 
bravery  and  cunning  strategy  of  the  Yaquis  of  his  time. 
In  his  'Eelacion,'  or  report  of  his  expedition,  he  said  that 
no  Indian  tribe  had  caused  him  so  much  trouble  bb  the 
Yaqui.  After  their  submission,  in  1610,  they  stayed 
quiet  until  1740,  when  they  again  broke  out.  The  rebel- 
lion was  quenched  in  blood,  and  for  eighty-five  years 
they  remained  peaceful.  Then  began  a  period  of  inter- 
mittent raids.  The  years  1825, 1826  and  1832  were  years 
of  blood,  but  the  Yaquis  were,  at  last,  subdued  and  their 
war  chiefs,  Banderas  and  Guiteieres,  executed.  In  1867 
they  again  revolted,  and  were  again  defeated,  but  de- 
spite all  their  defeats,  they  were  not  yet  conquered. 

"They  led  a  serai-savage  life  in  the  Yaqui  valley,  but 
were  always  giving  us  trouble,  raiding  here  and  there. 
The  majority  of  thera  would  seemingly  be  at  peace,  but 
human  life  was  always  more  or  less  in  danger  in  and 
near  the  Yaqui  district. 

"Isolated  bands  of  them  lived  by  plunder,  raiding, 
foraging  and  murdering  on  the  rancherias  and  hacien- 
das. This  condition  of  things  was,  to  say  tli?  lenst,  ex- 
tremely irritating.  No  self  respecting  government  can 
tolerate  within  its  borders  gangs  of  ruffian.s  defying  civ- 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


53 


The  federal  government  de- 


ilizatioD,  law  and  order, 
cided  to  act." 

"Were  you  then  the  general  in  command,  Don  Lo- 
renzo I" 

"No,  I  was  governor  of  Sonora;  it  was  later,  in  1892, 
that  I  was  given  command  of  this  zone.  When  war 
again  broke  out  between  the  tribe  and  the  federal  troops, 
the  Yaquis  wer"  very  daring,  and  numerically  strong; 
some  hot  engagements  took  place,  and  the  Yaquis  fled  to 
the  Bacatete  mountains.  From  these  hills  they  swooped 
down  upon  the  mines,  held  up  the  trails  and  mail  routes, 
and  terrorized  the  surrounding  country.  Our  troops 
pursued  them  into  the  mountains,  storming  their  im- 
pregnable strongholds.  It  took  ten  years  of  tedious  and 
bloody  fighting  to  reduce  them  and  bring  them  to  term.s. 
We  struck  a  peace,  and  to  that  treaty  of  peace  the  Mexi- 
can government  was  true,  and  stood  by  its  terms  and 
pledges.  We  gave  the  Yaqnis  twenty  times  more  land 
than  they  ever  dreamed  of  cultivating.  We  gave  them 
cattle,  tools  and  money.  We  fed  them  and  furnished 
them  seed.  We  have  been  humane  to  a  degree  unde- 
served by  the  Yaquis." 

The  general  rose  from  his  seat,  and,  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, paced  the  room  as  if  in  deep  thought.  Whether 
he  suspected  my  sympathies  were  with  the  Indians  or 
that  his  government  was  wedged  in  between  the  base  in- 
gratitude of  the  Yaqnis  and  the  censure  of  the  outside 
world,  T  do  not  know,  but  he  interrupted  hi.s  walk,  faced 
me  with  a  noticeable  shade  of  irritation  on  his  fine  face 
and  continued :  ' 

"I  did  even  more;  as  religion  has  a  soothing  and  paci- 
fjnng  effect  upon  the  soul  and  the  passions,  I  obtained 
priests  and  Sisters  of  Charity  for  them;    I  established 


1i 
1  I? 


m 


54 


BY  PATH  AND  IBAH/. 


schools  among  them.  But  you  can't  tame  the  wolf.  Not- 
withstanding all  our  kindness  and  friendly  efforts  on 
their  behalf,  the  tribe  revolted  again  two  years  later. 
With  the  money  we  gave  them,  and  the  mission  funds, 
which  they  took  from  the  priests,  they  purchased  rifles 
and  ammunition  from  American  adventurers  and  Mexi- 
can renegades,  and  made  for  the  mountains.  In  their 
flight  for  the  hills  they  carried  with  them  one  of  the 
mission  priests  and  four  of  the  Sisters  of  Charity,  hold- 
ing them  captives  for  si.\  months.  This  happened  on 
July  31, 1897." 

"Pardon  me,  general,"  I  interposed,  "but  the  most 
of  us  who  are  interested  in  the  Mexican  tribes,  believe 
the  Yaquis  to  be  Christian." 

"They  have  a  varnish  of  Christianity,  it  is  true,  but 
this  relig'ous  wash  only  helps  to  conceal  a  deep  sub- 
stratum of  paganism;  at  heart  they  are  heathens  and 
hold  to  their  old  superstitions  and  pagan  practices." 

"So  that,  smce  1897— that  is  to  say,  for  ten  years— 
the  Mexican  government  has  been  at  war  with  tlie 
Yaquis!" 

"That  is  not  the  right  word.  The  Yaquis  do  not 
fight  in  the  open,  so  that  no  real  battles  are  fought.  &i 
detached  commands  we  have  to  follow  them  into  the 
mountains,  and,  as  they  know  every  rock  and  tree  of  the 
Bacatetes,  we  are  pursuing  ghosts." 
"How  many  Yaquis  are  there,  Don  Lorenzo?" 
"There  are  now  some  4,000  left  in  Sonora.  The  ma- 
jority of  these  are  peaceful,  but  sympathize  with  the 
outlaws  and  assist  them  in  many  ways.  They  aU  speak 
Spanish,  dr^s  like  poor  Mexicans,  and  as  the  neutral 
Yaquis  aid  and  give  shelter  to  the  fighters,  we  must  re- 
gard them  all  as  enemies  of  the  republic." 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


55 


"So,  then,  there  is  no  solution  to  the  Yaqni  prob- 
lemt" 

"Oh,  yes,  there  is.  We  are  sending  them  to  Yucatan, 
Tabasco  and  Chiapas,  with  their  families.  There  they 
work  in  the  henequin  or  hemp  fields  and  make  a  good 
Uving.  Already  we  have  transported  2,000,  and  unless 
the  other  4,000  now  here  behave  themselves,  we  will  ship 
them  to  Yucatan  also.  The  state  of  Sonora  is  as  large 
as  England,  and  cannot  be  covered  by  military  troops 
and  patrols  without  great  expense.  The  Yaqni  problem 
as  you  are  pleased  to  call  it,  will  be  solved  m  due  time, 
and  Sonora,  when  fully  developed,  will  amaze  the  world 
with  its  riches  and  resources." 

This  expression  of  hope  and  faith  brought  my  visit 
to  a  close.  I  shook  hands  with  the  general  and  took  my 
leave  of  a  distinguished  soldier  and  a  most  courteous 
gentleman. 


!f^ 


CHAPTER  VII. 


THE  PBIE8T  AND  THE  YAQUIB. 

The  war  between  the  Mexican  government  and  the 
YaquiB  is  not  conducted  according  to  methods  or  prac- 
tices which  govern  civilized  nations.  It  partakes  more 
of  the  nature  of  a  Corsican  vendetta  or  a  Kentucky  feud. 
It  is  a  war  of  "shoot  on  sight"  by  the  Mexicans,  and  of 
treachery,  cunning,  ambushment  and  midnight  slaughter 
by  the  Yaqiiis.    It  is  a  war  of  extermination. 

In  1861  Governor  Pesquira,  of  Sonora,  in  a  proclama- 
tion offering  $100  for  every  Yaqui  scalp  brought  in,  calls 
them  "human  wolves,"  "incarnate  demons,"  who  de- 
serve to  be  "skinned  alive." 

"There  is  only  one  way,"  writes  Signor  Camillo  Diaz, 
"to  wage  war  against  the  Yaquis.  We  must  enter  upon 
a  steady,  persistent  campaign,  following  them  to  their 
haunts,  hunting  them  to  the  fastness  of  their  mount- 
ains. They  must  be  surrounded,  starved,  surprised  or 
inveigled  by  white  flags,  or  by  any  methods  human  or  dia- 
bolic, and  then— then  put  them  to  death.  A  man  might 
as  well  have  sympathy  for  a  rattlesnake  or  a  tiger." 

And  now  let  me  end  this  rather  long  dissertation  on 
this  singular  tribe  by  a  citation  from  Velasco,  the  his- 
torian of  Sonora.  I  ought,  however,  to  add  that  the 
Yaquihasyet  tobeheard  in  his  defense.  "Without  doubt," 
writes  Velasco,  "it  must  be  admitted  that  under  no  good 
treatment  does  the  Yaqui  abandon  his  barbarism,  his 
perfidy,  his  atrocity.  Notwithstanding  his  many  treaties 
of  peace  with  Mexico  and  the  memory  of  what  he  suf- 
fered in  past  campaigns,  yet  on  the  first  opportunity  and 


III 


1  lit 


58 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


on  the  slightest  provocation  he  breaks  faith  and  becomes 
worse  than  before." 

When  I  returned  to  Qunyinas  from  Torin  I  learned 
that  a  desperate  engagement  between  the  Mexican  troops 
and  the  Yaqui  Indians,  in  the  mountains  southeast  of 
this  city,  had  taken  place.  I  have  already  mentioned  a 
raid  made  by  the  Yaquis  on  the  railroad  station  of  Len- 
cho,  Sonora,  in  which  the  station  master  was  killed,  four 
men  seriously  wounded  and  three  girls  swept  to  the 
mountains.  Since  then  the  Mexicans  have  been  on  the 
trail  of  the  Yaquis ;  now  and  then  exchanging  shots,  with 
an  occasional  skirmish,  but  not  until  the  day  before  yes- 
terday did  the  enemy  and  the  Mexican  troops  come  to 
close  quarters.  One  cannot  place  much  confidence  in  the 
wild  reports  now  circulated  on  the  streets  of  Guaymas. 
A  Mayo  runner,  who  came  in  with  dispatches  this  morn- 
ing, is  reported  to  have  said  that  the  Mexicans  lost 
twenty  men  in  the  battle,  and  that  many  of  the  wounded 
were  lying  on  the  field,  still  uncared  for,  when  he  left. 
He  says  the  Yaquis  were  defeoted,  but  as  they  carried 
away  their  dead  and  wounded  when  they  retreated,  it 
was  not  known  how  many  Yaquis  were  killed.  Owing  to 
the  inaccessible  nature  of  the  country  and  its  remoten«"'S 
from  here,  we  do  not  expect  further  particulars  anvil 
to-morrow.  If  tne  Yaquis  had  time  to  carry  off  their 
dead  and  wounded,  depend  upon  it,  the  Mexican  troops 
gained  no  victory.  I  had  a  talk  this  afternoon  with  a 
governmental  ofBcial,  who  had  no  mi'r-:  information  than 
myself,  about  the  engagement.  He  declared  in  the  course 
of  our  conversation  that  it  was  the  purpose  of  the  na- 
tional government  and  of  the  state  of  Sonora  to  exter- 
minate the  Yaquis,  and  that  the  troops  would  remain 
in  the  mountains  till  the  last  of  the  Yaquis  was  bayoneted 


BV  PATH  AKU    lUAlL. 


59 


or  shot     When  I  ventured  the  remark  that  the  authori- 
ties o(  Mexico  said  the  same  thing  forty  years  ago,  have 
been  repeating  it  at  measured  intervals  ever  since,  and 
that  the  Yaquis  seem  to  be  as  far  from  annihilation  as 
they  were  in  Spanish  times,  he  became  restless,  rose  from 
his  seat  and  his  color  heightened.    I  thought  he  was  go- 
ing to  vomit.    I  steadied  him  by  ordering  up  the  cigars 
and  a  bottle  of  tequila.    He  then  informed  me  in  a  eonfi- 
den  lal  whisper  that  "the  Yaquis  were,  indeed,  terrible 
fighters  but  now  it  would  soon  be    all    up    with    them 
Wignor  Pedro  Alvarado,  the  owner  of  the  greatest  silver 
mine  m  Mexico  and  the  wealthiest  man  in'tlie  republic 
had  offered  to  raise  and  keep  in  the  field  at  his  own  ex- 
pense, a  regiment  of  Mexican    'Eurales'   for  the  cxter- 
mm.ation  of  the  Yaquis." 

On  my  way  from  Torin  to  Guaymas  I  called  to  pay 
my  respects  to  the  priest  in  charge  of  one  of  the  inland 
villages  where  I  was  compelled  to  pass  a  night.    After 
a  very  courteous  reception  and  some  p-eliminary  tatlc 
I  expressed  a  wish  to  have  his  views  ,     .he  misunder- 
standing between  the  Mexican  government  and  the  Yaqui 
indians.    I  adverted  to  my  interview  with  General  L  E 
.!"w '„"°'^  """"^"^  *^  substance  of  our  conversation 
V\  ell,"  he  began,  "if  an  impartial  tribunal,  like  The 
Xiague  convention,  could  examine  the  dead  and  living 
witnesses  of  both  sides,  and  after  sifting  and  weighing 
the  result  of  the  evidence,  the  scales  of  justice  might  pos 
sibly  turn  in  favor  of  the  Indians.    It  matters  little  now 
with  whom  the  fault  rests.    The  Yaquis  cannot  get  a 
bearing,  and  if  they  could  what  would  it  avaU  themj 
It  s  a  case  of  the  'race  to  the  swift,  the  battle  to  the 
strong,  and  the  weak  to  the  wall.'    When  the  American 
troops  were  carrying  extermination  to  the  Apaches  in 


60 


BY  PATH  ANU  TBAIL. 


Arizona,  the  Indians  were  reprcHented  in  ttte  i^astern 
states  and  Middle  West  as  demons  escaped  from  hell 
and  incarnated  in  Apache  bodies.  It  was  madness  to 
offer  an  apology  for  the  Indians  or  to  hint  at  the  provo- 
cation and  treatment  goading  them  to  desperation.  The 
public  voice  had  spoken,  the  case  was  closed — Koma 
locuta  est,  causa&nita  est." 

"I  am  a  Mexican,  and  by  force  of  birth  and  family 
ties,  am  with  my  own  people,  but  as  a  priest  of  Ood,  I 
ought  not  to  tread  upon  the  bruised  reed  or  quench  the 
smoking  flax." 

"Are  the  Yaqnis  Catholics,  padre  miof "  I  asked. 

' '  i'ully  one-half  of  the  Yaquis  are  as  devout  Catholics 
as  any  people  of  Mexico.  The  mountaineers,  whose  an- 
cestors were  converted  to  the  faith,  are  outlaws  for  aoO 
years  and  retain,  as  a  tradition,  many  Catholic  ceremon- 
ies wedded  to  old  pagan  superstitions  and  practices. 
The  fact,  that  when  in  1898  they  fled  to  the  mountains 
and  carried  with  them  in  their  flight  the  parish  priest  and 
four  nuns,  and  did  them  no  barm,  is  a  convincing  proof 
that  they  still  retain  a  reverence  for  the  priesthood  and 
for  holy  women." 

"Then  at  one  time  the  whole  tribe  was  converted  to 
the  Catholic  faith?" 

' '  Yea,  and  if  the  greed  and  covetousness  of  politicians 
.lud  adventurers  had  not  foully  wronged  them,  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Yaqui  tribe  would  to-day  be  among  the  best 
and  most  loyal  citizens  of  the  Mexican  republic. 

"As  early  as  1539  Father  Marcos  of  Nizza  visited 
the  Yaquis  in  the  Sonora  valley.  Ten  years  after  Nizza 's 
visit  two  Jesuit  missionaries  took  up  their  abode  among 
them.  Other  missionaries  followed  until,  at  the  time  of 
Otondo's  expedition  in  1683  to  Lower  California,  nearly 


including  the 


BY  PATH  AND  THAIL. 

■11  the  triben  of  Sonora  and  C'liiliualuia. 
Yaquis,  wen  C'liri.ftianized. 

"They  wure  among  the  first  to  Ikj  converted  by  the 
Jesuits.  Originally  extremely  n-arlike,  on  being  con- 
verted to  Christianity,  their  «avage  nature  was  com- 
pletcly  subdued  .-.nd  they  became  the  most  docile  and 
tractable  of  people.  They  are  invariably  honest,  faith- 
ful and  industriou.s.  They  are  also  the  fishermen  and 
famous  pearl-divers  of  the  Gulf  of  California 

.  "^Ia\  "!!  ^"''"'''  '^""^  Christians  they  continued 
to  hold  to  their  tribal  unity,  while  many  of  the  other 
tribes  were^  merged  in  the  older  Indian  population, 
known  as  'Indies  Mansos.'  They  yet  retain  their  tribal 
laws  and  clanship,  and  it  is  their  loyalty  to  these  laws 
that  has  led  to  much  of  the  trouble  between  them  and  our 
government. ' ' 

•Does  the  Republic  of  Mexico  recognize  their  status 
as  an  independent  body  or  an  imperium  in  imperioV  I 
asked. 

"You  have  touched  the  crux  of  the  whole  .|uestion," 
he  replied.  "The  Mexican  government  has  made  many 
treaties  with  the  Yaquis,  thus  acknowledging  in  a  meas- 
ure their  separate  political  entity,  if  not  independence. 
But,  when  a  \aqui  violates  a  Mexican  law,  the  Republic 
demands  his  surrender  that  he  may  be  tried  and  pun- 
ished by  Its  own  courts,  while  on  the  other  hand,  if  a 
Mexican  commits  an  outrage  on  a  Yaqui,  our  govern- 
ment Will  not  admit  the  right  of  the  Ya<,uis  to  trv  him 
and  punish  him." 

"But  will  your  government  punish  himf " 
•   3''  '^^^"^^^  ''™'  »■"!  his  crime  be  proved,  ves;  that 
IB  If  he  be  a  nobody,  but  if  he  has  money  or  i^uential 


(U 


DY  PATH   AND  niAlL. 


friendtf,  he's  never  caught,  or  if  rnught,  is  rarely  voa- 
victed. 

:'The  Indian  doeH  not  understand  this  way  of  doing 
tlilugH,  and  lie  takes  the  Ir.w  into  his  own  hands,  and  then 
tlie  trouble  begins." 

"What  was  the  opinion  of  the  eirly  missionary  fathers 
touching  the  Yaiiuis?" 

"Among  all  the  wild  tribes  ''vangelizcd  and  civilized 
by  the  Snanifih  priests,  among  the  Sinoloans,  Chihnhu- 
ans,  Tarnhumaria,  Mayos  and  others,  the  Yaquis  held 
first  place,  and  were  rated  high  for  their  morality  and 
attachment  to  the  faith. 

"The  famous  Father  Salvaticrra,  who  spent  ten  years 
on  the  Yaqui  mission;  Fathers  Eusebio  Kino,  Taravel 
iind  others,  have  left  on  record  their  con  Tiondations  of 
the  fidelity  of  the  Yaquis  and  the  cleanliness  of  their 
moriil  lives." 

"It  was  a  Yaqui  chief  who  accompanied  Father  Ugarte 
when  he  mapped  and  explored  Lower  California.  When 
tlip  mission  of  Father  Taravel  of  Santiago,  Lower  Cali- 
fornii'.,  was  threatened  by  the  savage  Perucci,  the  Yaquis 
sent  sixty  of  their  warriors  to  the  defense  of  the  priest 
(end  his  converts.  They  offered  500  fighting  men  to  pro- 
tect the  missions  of  Bija,  California,  provided  they  were 
called  upon  nnd  transportation  across  the  gulf  fur- 
nished them.  In  those  days  they  were  famed  for  their 
fidelity  to  the  Spaniards,  in  fact  all  the  early  writers 
speak  kindly  of  them,  and  they  were  then  known  as  the 
'most  faithful  Yaqui  nation.' 

"When  the  missions  were  dissolved  by  the  Mexican 
government,  and  the  fathers  compelled  to  abandon  their 
posts,  the  Yaquis  and  the  Mexicans  quarreled.  In  1825 
they  revolted,  claiming  they  were  burdened  with  heavy 


BY  PATH  AND  T«AIL. 


63 


taxM.    Banderas,  the  Yaqui  chief,  led  the  uprising  and 
won  nmterml  eonc'essions  from  our  government.     ",„n. 
deras  headed  another  rebellion  in  1832,  in  which  l„-  wis 
defeated  and  slain.     The  next  uprising  was  in  18SI  r 
caused  by  encroachments  on  the  lands  of  the  fn„.   ui.d 
the  present  war  is  due  to  the  lawless  acts    l  ili,-  ,„lj 
hunters  and  their  contempt  for  the  laws  of  !!;..  Yu„ui 
"-■'^•...^''^y  '■«''«  'he  misfortune  to  live  o-  the  fringe 
ofcivihzation,  where  provocation  is  alwa»  „, -uaciiK   ' 
U  I  am  not  trespassing  too  generously  on  v,.«r  <MKir 
esy.  may  I  ask  why  the  Franciscan  fathers  a!>andon-  1 
tne  missions  in  Sonoraf" 

„r'"?!^.j"''  "'"  °''°"'^'"'  "■*  '■^ssions,"  replied  the 
pnes  ,     they  were  exiled-I  do  not  like  to  use  the  word 
expelled-from  all  Mexican  territory  after  the  declara- 
tion  and  separation  of  the  republi.i  from  Spain     You 
see  party  spirit,  or  rather,  racial  divergence,  was  very 
acute  and  rancorous  in  those  times.    When  the  Mexi- 
cans achieved  their  independence,  all  Spaniards,  includ- 
ing priests,  officials  and  professional  men,  were  ordered 
to  leave  the  country-.    There  were  hardly  enough  native 
priests  to  admmister  the  cauonieally    established    par- 
ishes,  and  for  twenty-five  years  the  Indians  of  Sonora 
were  without  the  consoling  influence  of  the  Christian 
re  igjon  or  the  pacifying  presence  of  the  only  men  who 
could  restrain  the  expression  of  their  warlike  instincts  " 
So  you  are  of  the  opinion  that  if  the  missionaries 
had  remained  with  them,  the  Yaquis  would  now  be  at 
peace  with  Mexico!" 

.f?h  T^rV^  "■■  ^°  ^^^'  ^^*"  '*■«  J««""  superior 
of  the  Alta  Pimeria'  missions  decided  to  send  Father 
Eusebio  Kino  from  Sonora  to  open  the  mission  to  the 
Digger  Indians'  of  Lower  California,  the  military  gov- 


f 


64  BT  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 

emOT  refused  to  iet  Father  Kino  go,  saying  that  the 
priest  had  more  power  in  restraining  the  Indi^.n?  o^  the 
Ronora  and  Yaqui  lands  than  a  regiment  of  soldiers." 

My  interview  with  this  scholarly  and  devout  priest 
was  abruptly  brought  to  a  close  by  the  arrival  of  some 
visitors.  With  the  kindness  and  affability  which  dis- 
tinguish all  the  Mexican  ecclesiastics  that  I  have  been 
privileged  to  meet,  he  insisted  upon  accompanying  me  to 
the  garden  gate,  where  with  uncovered  head  I  shook 
his -friendly  baud,  and  after  thanking  him  for  his  gra- 
cious hospitality,  bade  him  good-bye.  On  the  way  to  my 
posada,  or  lodging  house,  I  thought  of  the  honors  heaped 
upon  the  Romans  by  Macauley,  and  the  admiration  of  the 
world  for  men  like  Horatius,  who  in  defense  of  their 
country,  rush  to  death,  asking: 

"How  can  men  die  nobler, 

Than  facing  fearful  odds. 
For  the  ashes  of  their  fathers 

And  the  temples  of  their  Godst" 


BOOK  II. 
IN  THE  LAND  OF  THE  "DIGGER  INDIAN" 


CHAPTEB  Vin. 

WHEBE  MAN  ENTERS  AT  HIS  PEBIL. 

Beaching  out  one  thousand  miles  into  the  Pacific 
ocean  elongating  itself  like  a  monstrous  thing  alive 
m  futUe  attempt  to  separate  itself  from  its  parent  con- 
tinent, there  is  a  lonely  land  as  unknown  to  the  world 
as  he  vast  barbanc  interior  of  Central  Africa  or  the  re- 
pel ant  coasts  of  Patagonia.  Upon  its  .inhospitable  shores 
on  the  west,  the  sea  in  anger  resenting  its  intrusive  pres- 
ence  has  been  waring  for  untold  ages,  hurling  mountain- 
ous  waves  of  immeasurable  strength  on  its  sandy  beach 

0  Z"SuUof7T  ^''^.''«-"--  ^t  t-es  the'waters 
of  the  Gulf  of  Cortez,  rising  in  their  wrath,  rush  with 
fierce  violence  on  its  western  flank,  and  th;  sound  of 
the  impact  IS  the  roaring  of  the  sea  heard  far  inland    In 

ItrlV.  ,"".  ''""'°'^  ^'''''  "»'-''«  •"--«  been  opened 
TudL  H  ""  ^''^^"'°«™^'le,  and  indentations,  inlets 
and  deep  bays  remain  to  record  the  desperate  na  ure  of 
he  unendmg  battles  of  the  primordial  forces.  This  aw! 
ful  and  vast  sohtude  of  riven  mountains  and  parched 
deserts  retains  the  name  it  received  350  years  ago  when 
bap^ed  m  the  blood  of  thirteen  Spaniards  sl^ugktered 

B«i  „    P  r*r  "^  ""''  ^"^  '"'^"S"  wilderness.     This  Is 
Baija    Cal.-Lower  Califomia-a  wild  and  dreary  re 

SalTfi'-'  *°;T*''  '""'"""'^  -'^  ravines,  a^d  Tn 
Peaces  disfigured  by  ghastly  wounds  inflicted  bvvol 
oanic  fire  or  earthquake  • 

it  '^HerT'""  ^"'f  '""'"''^'  """^'-^  '"  '•«'°P-o  with 
It.  Here  arc  mountains  devoid  of  vegetation  extraor 
dinary  plateaus,  bewildering  lines  of  f ragmenta  "  cUff" 


68 


ny   PATH   AND  TRAII,. 


a  land  where  there  are  no  flowing  rivers,  where  no  rain 
falls  in  places  for  years,  volcanoes  that  geologically  died 
but  yesterday  and  whose  configurations  and  weird  out- 
lines are  impossible  of  description.  Its  rugged  shores 
are  indented  and  toothed  like  a  crosscut  saw.  It  is  a 
land  of  sorrow  almost  deserted  of  man  and  shrouded  in 
an  isolation  startling  in  its  pitiful  silence.  Save  the  nn- 
pmofitable  cactus  and  the  sombre  sagebrush,  friends  of 
the  desert  reptiles,  there  is  no  vegetation  in  regions  of 
startling  sterility. 

If  there  be  upon  the  earth  a  countrj-  lying  under  the 
pall  of  the  Isaiahan  malediction,  it  is  here;  for  here  is 
the  realization  and  accomplishment  of  the  dread  proph- 
ecy portending  the  blight  of  vegetable  life.  "1  will 
lay  it  waste,  and  it  shall  not  be  pruned  or  digged,  but 
there  shall  come  up  briars  and  thorns.  I  will  also  com- 
mand the  clouds  that  they  rain  no  rain  upon  it." 

Here  in  the  vast  interior  loneliness  of  this  forbidding 
land  are  horrent  deserts  where  the  traveler  may  ride 
hundreds  of  miles  and  find  no  water  or  look  upon  other 
vegetation  than  thorny  cacti  or  scattered  bushes  of  the 
warning  greese-wood,  telling  him  that  hero  is  death.  The 
lonely  mountains  bordering  these  deserts  are  striking  in 
their  visible  sterility.  Torrential  rains  in  seasons  over- 
whelm the  struggling  vegetation  that  in  the  intervening 
months  of  repose  invade  the  few  inviting  patches,  and, 
rushing  madly  to  the  foothills,  sweej)  all  vegetaMo  life 
before  them. 

Then,  when  the  storm  retires,  and  the  blazing  sun 
burns  the  very  air,  the  porphyritic  rocks  l)eooine  an  ashen 
white,  and,  reflecting  the  sun's  rays,  throw  nlT  lolii::., 
billows  of  unendurable  heat.  Most  of  these  re]>elleMt 
ranges  are  granite,  hut  in  many  places  there  an-  feiii;.! 


BV   PATH  AND  TRAIL.  gg 

In  some  -sectiins^h  "l^el" a  e  „.  7  1  ''"^  «""''«  '^"^ 
fron,  theso  rock.  Towtd  ,^0  f.  T'^  "'"  ''«"»"« 
slates  aro  accomDanitHh,        ,        "'^  "^  California  the 

often  appeaTrrnrinJeprd^nr'.''^  '"""'°"''^'  -<» 
toward  the  high  granite  S'^Near  The  l>  fi"'''"'"* 
the  land  is  sown  with  vnl^=„-  **  ^  '"''^«  «oast 

of  land  termerml  Is   do  teT  "T'  ''™''™  l^^'  """''■'^^^ 

P-'.  Immense  .treamsVf  "fva  T;//^''  "'""  '•^""■- 
deserts  and  now  cover  «,„-  fi  '"""  '"'*«'"«d  the 

of  the  sandstone  ZZ^^^i^t^rTiT'''  ''""""^  ""-^ 
of  the  river  of  mineral  and  oth  '"'''*'  ^"^  '^''ies 

magma,  zig-zag  here  id  H  °''«^'''''  '"""«'■  <^'>"'"1 

•^iing  streams  on„TsoHdified"H  ''"  '''°"""-^'  '•--'- 
and  igneous,  rocks  spHntered  an^  w'  TV'^''  "'"«»"^ 
of  «rit  stones,  eongro^e^el  :ha  ^'t , ""'  t"^'"'' 
basalt.  '  °"'"SN  halts  and  syenite 

pef^thtura:::ra?dt'""'  ^■^'"  ^^---^^  -^  ™p- 

lakes,  white  as  snnw  Z       f  '"''  '"^''^'    and    dry 

lie.  ^e  a  du  t  The  werrd"",',"":'^'  """^''^  '^'  -°^ 
the  grin,  desolation  he  wsH''  ^k^""'  ^''«"-' 
accursed  and  forsaken  of  m,n  '''r''^/"^'"'"'  '^'^^''^'^ 
toad,  the  tarantula  and1h;TnattrHfVtV'"  'r^l 
raise  a  barrier  to  exploration     Tho      ,     .  *""'  ""^ 

to  be  found  over  an  arernf  ^    f    ."""•'  ''"'"''''8  '^"ter 
depressions  and  in  holes  here  ^n^Tht  "'  t*^'^  ''  "'  '"•"' 
where  the  rain  has  eone:tedTn  natura H^^ 
solar  rays  and  partially  protected    frn  ^'■°'" 

«nt  there  are  seasons  wK^^^ls^rraLTa^S 


70 


BY  PATH  AND  IBAU^ 


then  in  this  awesome  peninsular  furnace,  the  air  is  burn- 
ing, the  sand  hot  as  volcanic  ash,  and  the  silence  like 
unto  that  which  was  when  God  said  "Let  there  be  light." 
The  deserts  of  this  mysterious  land  are  regions  of  sand 
where  earth  and  sky  form  a  circle  as  distinct  as  that 
traced  by  a  sweep  of  the  compass. 

Into  this  desolation  of  sterility  and  solitude  man  enters 
iit  his  peril,  for  here  the  deadly  homed  rattlesnake,  the 
white  scorpion,  thirst  and  sweatless  heat  invite  him  to 
his  ruin  and  offer  a  constant  menace  to  life.  If  with  de- 
termined purpose  he  dares  his  fate  and  attempts  the 
crossing  of  the  parched  and  desolate  land,  the  white 
glare  reflected  from  the  treacherous  sand  threatens  him 
w  itii  blindness.  At  times  he  encounters  the  deadly  sand- 
storms of  this  awful  wilderness  of  aridity,  the  driving 
aiid  whirling  sands  blister  his  face  and  carry  oppression 
to  bis  breathing.  If  the  water  he  carries  fail  liiiii,  be 
may  find  a  depression  half  full  of  mockery  and  disap- 
pointment, for  its  waters  bold  in  solution  alkali,  alum  or 
arsenic,  and  bear  madness  or  death  in  their  alluring  ap- 
pcarunce. 

If  night  overtake  him  and  sleep  oppress  him,  he  must 
be  careful  where  he  takes  bis  rest,  lest  a  storm  break 
upon  bim  and  bury  him  under  its  ever-shifting  sands, 
and  if  he  sleeps  well  he  may  never  awake.  And  these 
storms  arc  capricious,  for,  after  welcoming  the  unhappy 
man  to  a  hospitable  grave  in  the  desert  and  covering  him 
with  a  nioimd  many  feet  high  and  of  liberal  circumfer- 
ence, they  are  not  satisfied  to  let  him  rest  in  peace,  for, 
mouths  later,  it  may  be  years,  they  scatter  the  dune  and 
expose  the  mummified  body.  There  are  here  no  vultures  to 
clean  tlie  bones,  for  the  vulture  is  the  hyena  of  the  air 
and  lives  on  putrefaction,  and  there  is  here  no  decompos- 


BY  PATH  AKD  PBAIL.  <f% 

ing  flesh  The  carcass  of  man  or  beast  is  dried  by  solar 
snc  ion  the  skin  is  parched  and  blackened  and  tthtens 
on  the  bones;  the  teeth  sho.  white,  for  the  lips  a  fgone 
with  contraction,  the  eyes  are  burned  out  and  the  s^ 

:rpT^:ath  ".^itne':warrtrtrr '- 

Dawn       ^e ,  ;,^  starSuX  L^erS 

blue.    It  ,s  a  vision  of  transcendent  beauty,  for  toward 

the  call  of  the  mountains  which  allure  him  ^tLTr T 
parent  nearness.  The  remorseless  sun  times  Ws  nle 
with  his:  if  he  stands  utill    n.^  7     ,  P""^ 

,       ue  Bianas  stUi,  the  sun  stands  still    if  Hp 
moves  forward,  the  sun  moves  forward-  if  hi  .f 

11  IS  as  It  the  air  was  afire  and  his  brain  ablaze     Th» 

h.^  :L  "  '""^"'^^''°''  P"^-"'  •>-"  "e  -,Jn« 
hi  ^      ^■''  "^  ""''^  """^  ^''"'  '^ith  Wood;  his  fea 

tures  are  drawn  and  his  face  i.s  neighbor  to  dea  h     And 

for  h  rf"r"'"  '"'  ""  '"''"'  ''"'  ™t^  --■  hs  botts 
for  h^  ee  are  swollen  shockingly,  his  l.„i..  is  beginnS 
to  bleach,  Ins  gait  ,s  shambling,  and  the  strong  nZof 

been  bidding  h.m  good-bye,  and  is  now  leaving  him  it 
.8  gone  forever,  and  only  the  primal  instinct  of 1 1     '^  ' 

craid'^irti'f  f  ■"  ■" '"'  ""^""'^  ■-'««-  '-- 

human  aid.    In  this  lonely  wilderness  the  cruel  sun  poors 


72 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIU 


down  his  intolerable  rays  till  the  very  air  vibrates  with 
waves  of  heat.  Nothing  moves,  nothing  agitates  the  awe- 
some silence,  there  is  no  motion  in  the  heavens,  in  the 
dmnb,  dead  air,  on  the  burning  san<).  "'he  madman  tries 
to  shout,  but  his  throat  can  only  reti'i  ;•  a  hoarse  guttural, 
and  his  blackened  tongue  hangs  '.u;  as  he  gasps  for 
breath.  Hunger  is  gnawing  him,  t,:  rat  is  devouring  him, 
and  he  does  not  know  it.  The  cells  of  his  brain  are  filled 
with  fire,  his  body  is  burning;  piece  by  piece  he  has  torn 
away  his  clothes,  and  now,  from  throat  to  waist,  he  rips 
open  his  fiannel  shirt  and  flings  it  from  him.  His  sight 
has  left  him,  his  paralyzed  limbs  can  no  longer  support 
his  fleshless  body,  and  blind,  naked,  demented,  he  falls 
upon  the  desert  and  is  dead.  Who  was  he?  A  pros- 
pector. Where  was  he  going!  To  the  mountains.  For 
what?  For  gold.  He  follows  is  as  did  the  wise  men  the 
star  of  Bethlehem.  It  lures  the  feet  of  men  and  often 
woos  the  rash  and  the  brave  to  doatu  and  madness. 

When  the  prospector  has  achieved  the  conquest  of  the 
desert  and  reached  the  mountains,  retaining  his  health 
and  strength,  he  has  accompliahed  much,  but  there  yet 
remain  many  trials  and  hardships  to  test  the  courage 
and  endurance  of  the  brave  man.  Not  the  least  of  these 
is  the  wear  and  tear  on  the  mind  of  unbroken  silence  and 
absence  of  all  life.  There  is  nothing  that  shatters  cour- 
age, chills  the  heart  and  paralyzes  the  nerves  as  surely 
as  some  inexplicable  sound,  either  intermittent  or  persis- 
tent. The  brain  that  ctnceived  the  "wandering  voice" 
struck  the  keynote  of  terror,  and  when  Milton  described 
the  armless  hand  of  gloomy  vengeance,  pursuing  its  vic- 
tim through  lonely  places  and  striking  when  the  terrified 
man  thought  himself  within  the  security  of  darkness,  he 
gave  us  one  of  the  most  awful  examples  of  the  fears  of 


Bt  PATH  AKD  TBAIL. 


73 


a  guilty  Boul  overcome  with  helplessness  and  shook  with 
nameless  horror. 

There  are  those  now  living  in  this  forbidding  peninsu- 
la who  have  dared  and  conquered  the  burning  heat  and 
rackless  sands  of  lonely  wastes,  only  to  encounter,  when 
they-  reached  their  goal  of  hope  in  the  mountains  spec- 
tres of  the  imagination  m;d  the  wraiths    of    disordered 

wh?"  ^  *'r!  ""'  '''"•"■'°  «""««''■  "  Phy'i-'  wS 
who  was  pointed  out  to  me  shuffling  across  the  plazuela 
in  the  town  of  San  Rafael. 

He  was  a  fine,  manly  fellow  -n  his  day.  earning  a  fair 
wage  m  the  Rothschild  smelter,  when  he  took  the  mine 
fever  and  started  for  the  mountains  on  a  prospecting  ex- 
pedition. He  was  all  alone,  carrying  his  pick  and  shovel, 
Zr.  .'""^/°°'*-  .  A  good  deal  of  desultor>-  wandering 
took  him  finally  into  a  little  canyon  where  he  found  a 
promising  'outcropping,"  and  he  went  to  work  to  locate 
n„Z'  "7«' \^e«ol«t«  place,  but  beautiful  in  a  way. 
On  either  side  of  the  valley  that  formed  the  bosom  of  tlie 
canyon,  the  mountain  sloped  up  and  up,  until  the  purple 

ZIZ7      "'"i"'  ""'  '"'^'  ^•'"''  -  ""'  ™'^  «nd 
gramte-strewu  aeclmty  no  vegetation  took  root 

No  game  existed  there;  the  very  birds  never  flew 
across  the  place,  and  it  was  so  sheltered  from  currents 
of  air  that  even  the  winds  had  no  voice.  This  dreadful 
and  unnatural  stillne.ss  was  the  first  thing  that  impressed 
Itself  upon  Oaliego^  Particularly  at  nig  "t  time,  when  "Ihe 
TZ  *  r  "^'"^  """^  Bointillating  as  they  always  seem  in 

Hoor  7^  tZ'  •''?'*"^  '^'  '^'  ''^  ^""'-^  «it  "t  «'e  open 
1Za\^1  hut,  and  the  silence  would  be  so  vast  and  pro- 
found  that  the  beating  of  his  own  heart  would  drum  in 
his  ear  like  the  strokes  oi  a  trip-hammer.  He  was  not  a 
man  of  weird  imagination,  bnt  unconsciously  and  grad- 


74 


BT  PATH  AMD  TSAIL. 


nally  an  awe  of  the  immense  lolitTide  posseMed  him. 
And  little  by  little,  as  he  afterward  told  the  storjr, 
another  feeling  stole  in  npon  him.  The  rock-ribbed  gorga 
began  to  assume  a  certain  familiarity,  at  though  he  had 
seen  the  place  in  other  days  and  only  partially  remem- 
bered it,  and  he  conid  not  shake  off  a  subtle  impression 
that  he  was  abont  to  hear  or  see  something  that  would 
make  this  recollection  vivid. 

There  was  no  human  being  within  a  hundred  miles, 
and  often  he  was  on  the  point  of  abandoning  the  claim 
and  retracing  his  steps.  But  before  he  could  make  up 
his  mind  he  struck  an  extraordinary  formation.  It  was 
a  sort  of  decomposed  quartz,  flaked  and  flecked  with  gold 
in  grains  as  large  as  pin  heads,  and  ragged  threads  that 
looked  as  if  they  had  at  one  time  been  melted  and  run 
through  the  rock.  Antonio  knew  enough  to  be  satisfied 
that  it  would  not  take  much  of  the  "stuff"  to  make  him 
rich,  and  he  worked  with  feverish  haste,  xmcovering  the 
ledge.  On  the  second  day  after  his  discovery,  he  was  at 
the  bottom  of  his  shallow  shaft,  when  suddenly  he  paused 
and  listened  to  what  he  thought  was  the  sound  of  a 
church  bell.  He  rested  on  his  shovel,  the  bell  was  ring- 
ing and  the  sound  was  pleasant  to  his  ears.  It  reminded 
him  of  home,  of  the  Sunday  mass,  and  the  fond,  familiar 
church,  but  above  all,  it  brought  back  to  him  the  faces  of 
the  old  companions  and  acquaintanors  he  met  in  the 
church  square  Sunday  after  Sund'iy  and  the  veiled  and 
sinewy  forms  and  faces  of  the  senoritas  crossing  the 
plaza  to  hear  mass.  How  long  he  had  been  dreamily 
listening  to  the  church  bell  he  did  not  know,  but  suddenly 
the  thought  came  to  him  that  there  could  be  no  church 
nearer  than  a  hundred  miles.    Still  he  could  hear  the  bell 


BV  PATH  A.NII  TBAIL. 


75 


distinctly,  faint  and  as  if  af.ir,  jet  iwrfwtiv  cluiir.     It 
sonnded,  too,  like  his  parish  b«ll. 

Antonio  sprang  out  of  his  shaft  and  stood  listening. 
The  sonnd  confused  him  and  he  could  not  tell  exactly 
from  what  direction  it  came.  It  seemed  now  north,  now 
south,  and  now  somewhere  above  him,  but  it  continued  to 
nng,  reminding  him  it  was  time  for  mass.  Then  the  bell 
ceased  to  ring;  aht  thought  the  lone  man,  "the  priest  is 
at  the  altar  and  mass  has  began." 

The  excitement  of  the  mine  had  passed  away  from  him 
as  fever  from  a  sick  man.  A  sort  of  inertia  crept  over 
him  and  he  dropped  his  shovel  and  idled  for  the  rest  of 
the  day,  thinking  about  the  bell.  As  vet  he  wax  not 
afraid,  but,  that  night,  seated  before  his  lonely  cabin  lift 
heard  the  slow,  rhythmic  sound  of  the  bell  once  again- 
he  felt  an  icy  creeping  in  his  scalp  and  turned  sick  with 
dread.  He  was  afraid  of  the  awful  solitude  and  afr.iid 
to  be  alone  with  the  mysterious  sound.  He  knew  it  could 
be  no  bell,  knew  that  it  must  be  an  hallucination,  vet  be- 
fore It  stopped,  he  went  nearly  mad. 

The  next  time  he  heard  it  "was  in  the  afternoon  of  the 
following  day.  He  stared  about  him  and  the  old  sense 
of  familiarity  returned  ten-fold.  The  granite  gorge 
seemed  teeming  with  some  horrible  secret  or  a  spectre 
was  soon  to  appear  and  speak  to  him.  He  feared  to  look 
around  him  lest  the  awful  thing  would  draw  near.  And 
now  the  bell  begins  to  toll  for  the  dead,  and  Antonio 
bears  a  voice  from  the  air  saying,  "She  is  dead,  she  is 
aead.  Ah,  Cara  Mia, ' '  spoke  the  lone  man,  "  my  heart 
IS  dead  within  me,  but  I  must  go  to  your  funeral  and  see 
you  laid  to  rest,  and  I  '11  soon  be  with  you. "  Still  the  bell 
kept  tolling.  Before  it  ceased,  Antonio  was  flying  out  of 
the  canyon,  haggard,  muttering  to  himself,    wildly    ges- 


1  ii 


MICtOCOfV   tISOlUTION   TBT   CHAIT 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


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^    TIPPLED  IfvHBE    lr.c 


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nocheaicr.  <*,»  vork  U 
1'16)  *B2  -OJOO  -  Phine 
(?16)   ZM-  SM9  -Fox 


76 


BY  PATH  AND  TEAIL. 


ticulating,  and  tears  flowing  down  his  cheeks.  He  made 
his  way  to  San  Hafael,  starting  up  at  night  to  hurry  on, 
and  pushing  over  the  almost  impenetrable  country  at 
such  a  speed  that  when  he  reached  his  destination  he  was 
broken  down,  a  wreck  and  halt'  demented. 

At  times  the  awful  solitude,  the  immeasurable  stillness 
and  isolation  from  human  homes  close  in  upon  the  lonely 
prospector  and  wear  down  the  texture  of  the  brain.  So 
stealthily  does  the  enemy  of  sanity  creep  in  upon  the  do- 
minion of  the  mind,  that  the  doomed  man  is  not  con- 
scious, or  only  dreamly  conscious,  of  its  approach.  In 
the  beginning  he  notices  that  he  is  talking  aloud  to  him- 
self, then,  after  a  time,  he  talks  as  if  some  one  is  listen- 
ing to  him,  and  presently  his  questions  are  answered  by, 
presumedly,  a  living  voice.  Then,  at  his  meals,  going  and 
coming  from  his  cabin,  when  he  is  burrowing  into  the 
side  of  a  prospect,  he  hears  a  lone  voice  or  many  voices 
in  conversation  or  in  angry  altercation.  It  is  no  use  try- 
ing to  persuade  himself  that  his  imagination  is  imposing 
on  his  sense  of  hearing,  the  voices  are  too  real  and  audi- 
ble for  that.  Presently,  lonely  apparitions  float  in  the 
air,  mist-like  and  misshapen  at  first;  then,  as  they  ap- 
proach nearer,  they  assume  human  forms,  descend 
to  the  earth  and  begin  to  talk  and  gesticulate.  Then 
sometimes  the  wraith  of  a  dead  companion  appears  to 
him,  walks  with  him  to  his  rude  hut  a  mile  away,  talks 
over  old  times,  sits  with  him  at  his  meals  and  sleeps  with 
him.  Nor,  when  wind-tanned  and  sun-scorched,  he  re- 
turns to  his  friends,  may  he  ever  be  talked  out  of  his  de- 
lusions. He  has  heard  the  voices,  seen  the  spectres,  com- 
panioned with  the  dead  and  there 's  the  end  of  it.  Some- 
thing like  this  happened  to  Pedro  Pomaro  who  died,  a 
rich  man,  a  few  years  ago,  in  the  little  burg  of  Santa 


BY  PATE  AND  THAIL. 


77 


Eosilla  at  the  foot  of  Monta  Reccia.  He  was  prospeet- 
ing  in  the  Kugenia  range  with  Alphonso  Tliimm,who  per- 
ished of  niountain  fever  seven  weeks  after  they  made 
camp.  Pedro  bnried  his  friend  and  companion  in  a"  ide 
of  the  mountam,  said  a  "de  profundis"  for  the  repose 
of  h,s  soul,  and  returned  to  lus  lonelv  tent.  Three  days 
after  the  burial  of  his  eompanion,  he  was  examinTng  some 
ore  he  had  taken  out  of  the  shaft,  when  he  sav.  S,  n  o 
coming  toward  him.    He  dropped  the  sample  aXgan 

enses  Tl  ij;  ''°°^"<'"^''^«^-  When  he  returned  to  his 
senses  Tl.mm  was  gone  and  Pedro  retraced  his  way  back 
to  h.s  tent.  The  next  afternoon,  at  about  4  o'clock  when 
L,  r.Ji:      u^  ''*  '^'  '^^^'  ^'P'""-^"  '•gain  appeared 

Mariner  th™    'J^  """'""^  ''''•  "^  "''  '^'^  ^--"t 
Manner  the  weddmg  guest.     He  beckoned  to  Pedro  to 

to  the  north,  over  rocky,  broken  ridges,  and  at  last 
"Comeb  ^'^-h^t-'^  Pedro  by  the 'arm  and  s  d 
Come  here  to-morrow  and  dig."  Thimm  vanished  Td 
Pedro,  marking  the  spot  the  ghostly  finger  pointed  out 
dragged  himself  back  to  his  tent.  He  awoke  at  noon  the 
nex  day,  cooked  and  eat  his  simple  meal,  and,  shoulder 
ing  his  miner's  pick,  returned  to  the  place  shoUi  him  bv 

"Kl  Colrd^"'""""  'I"'?  '"  '''""^'"-'^  -<J  '"-ted  the 
cat  for  ?nnon""°''  "'^::^  ''*  '°'''  '°  =»  Mexican  syndi- 
cate for  30,000  pesos.    Ghost  or  no  ghost,  Pedro  found 

self  a  pretentious  and  comfortable  liomse,  occupied  to- 
day^by  one  of  his  daughters  with  her  Imsl'.nd  and  cl^l 


CHAPTER  rx. 

THI  DEAD  OF  THE  OESEBT. 

I  was  privileged  last  evening  to  be  the  guest  of  Don 
astaban  Guiteras  and  his  charming  family,  and  when 
It  was  time  to  renew  the  expression  of  my  appreciation 
of  hi8  hospitality  and  bid  him  good  night,  I  deeply  re- 
gretted that  Mexican  etiquette  forbade  me  to  prolong 
my  visit.  Don  Estaban  is  now  in  the  evening  of  a  life 
largely  spent  in  deserts  and  mountains,  and  it  is  allotted 
to  few  men  to  pass  through  his  experiences  and  retain  a 
fair  measure  of  health,  or  indeed,  to  survive  Wind- 
tanned  and  sun-scorched,  he  is  a  ragged  example  of  in- 
domitable courage  and  of  unshaken  determination,  to 
whom  good  luck  and  success  came  when  despair  was  rid- 
mg  on  his  shadow. 

I  questioned  him  of  the  dt  ,  the  mountains,  the  can- 
yons, and  never  was  boy  preparing  for  his  first  commu- 
mon  more  familiar  with  his  catechism  than  was  Don  Es- 
taban  with  the  graesome  wonders  of  the  lonely  places  of 
the  peninsula. 

He  told  me  of  a  region  where  many  men  had  died  of 
thirst,  and  t»  which  flocks  of  ducks  and  water  fowl  came 
year  after  year  in  the  migratory  season;  of  places  where 
ram  is  almost  unknown,  yet  where  clouds  come  of  a  night 
and,  breaking  on  some  lofty  peak,  hurt  thousands  of  tons 
of  water  upon  the  land,  altering  the  forms  and  shapes  of 
mountams,  ploughing  deep  gorges  here,  and  there  fill- 
ing others  with  great  boulders,  and  changing  the  face 
of  the  country.  He  spoke  of  deserts  where  men  go  mad 
with  heat,  throw  their  canteen,  half -filled  with  life-saving 


it 

'Hi 


80 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


water,  out  into  the  waste  of  sand,  and,  tearing  and  rip- 
ping every  shred  of  clothing  from  their  emaciated  bodies, 
shout  at  and  damn  the  imaginary  fiends  mocking  them. 
He  aslced  me  why  it  wa.s  tlint  the  skulls  of  men,  who  per- 
ish of  heat  and  thirst  on  the  desert,  split  wide  open  as 
soon  as  life  has  left  their  trembling  limbs!  I  answered 
I  had  never  heard  of  the  weird  and  singular  phenomenon. 
"Yes,"  he  continued,  "I  have  seen  dead  men  in  the 
Harmiga  desert,  end  the  skull  o'  -'very  one  of  them  was 
gaping.  So  dry  is  the  air  of  these  regions,  so  hungry  is 
it  for  the  heart's  blood  of  its  victim,  that  no  sooner  do 
men  die  than  the  hot  air  envelopes  them,  and,  like  a 
devil-fish,  sucks  from  their  tissues,  veins  and  arteries  all 
blood  an(i  water.  I  have  followed  the  trail  of  dead  men 
by  the  shreds  and  rags,  the  knife,  revolver  and  canteen 
flung  away  and  torn  from  them  in  their  delirium;  and 
when  I  came  upon  their  bod  es,  the  hair  was  ashen  gray, 
the  skulls  split  open  and  the  bodies  stark  naked.  Of  tha 
skull,  the  remorseless  heat  makes  n  '-eritable  steam  chest, 
and  when  the  sutured  bone  wells  cun  no  longer  stand  the 
awful  strain,  the  skull  splits  open  and  the  brain  pro- 
trudes. I  was  traveling  one  afternoon  with  a  companion 
over  the  Jluerto  desert  when  the  braying  of  one  of  my 
burros  called  us  to  a  halt.  A  walking  burro  never  brays 
while  the  sun  shines  imless  it  sees  or  scents  danger. 
Lifting  my  field  glass  I  saw,  far  away  to  our  left,  a  man 
evidently  in  distress.  "We  altered  our  course,  and,  as  we 
drew  to  hailing  distance,  the  man,  completely  naked,  ran 
to  meet  us,  wildly  gesticulating,  'Ritrarse,  ritrarse' — go 
back,  go  back — he  shouted, '  the  demons  are  too  many  for 
us,  let  us  run,  let  us  run.'  We  gave  the  poor  fellow  a 
few  sips  of  water,and  after  a  white  fed  him  chocolate  and 
crackers,  and  brought  him  with  us.    Striking  out  diagon- 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


81 


.  ly  across  the  sands,  we  found  his  oanteen,  tliree-quar- 
ters  full  of  clear,  fresh  water.  When  his  mind  was  giv- 
ing away  he  sat  down  to  rest,  and,  rising,  strayed  away 
he  knew  not  whither,  forgetting  his  food  and  water  " 

"Why  do  men  lose  their  reason  in  the  desert?"  I  asked 
Don  Estabau. 

"AVell,"  said  he,  i'many  of  these  men,  bv  dissipation 
and  evil  habits  in  early  manhood  have  weakened  an«i  im- 
paired their  brains.  Others  were  bom  with  a  weak  men- 
tality, so  that  when  the  merciless  heat  beats  down  upon 
them,  when  fatigue,  and  often  hi^nger  and  thirst,  seize 
upon  them,  the  weakest  part  of  the  human  system  is  the 
first  to  surrender.  Then  the  intense  and  sustained  si- 
lence of  the  desert,  the  immeasurable  waste  of  saud 
around  them,  and  the  oppression  on  the  mind  of  the  in- 
terminable desolation  and  solitude  carry  melancholy  to 
the  soul,  and  the  weakened  mind  breaks  down. 

"It  is  what  happens,  at  times,  to  men  who  go  out  on 
the  desert;  they  perish  ::nd  are  heard  of  no  more     The 
drifting  sand  covers  them,  and  when  years  after  their 
burial,  a  hurricane  of  wind  races  over  the  desert,  it  scat- 
ters the  sand  which  hides  them,opens  thegrave  as  itwere 
and  carrying  the  bodies  with  it,  separates  the  bones  and 
drops  them  here  and  there  on  the  bosom  of  the  o.-esn  of 
sand.    A  curious  thing,"  continued  Don  Estaban  "hap- 
pens when  the  strong  winds  blow  oa  the  desert,  a  some- 
thing occurs  which  always  reminds  me  of  the  continn- 
ons  presence  of  God  everywhere  and  of  His  providence. 
Doe*  not  the  Bible  somewhere  speak  of  the  birds  which 
the  Heavenly  Father  feedeth  and  the  lilies  of  the  field 
which  He  cares  fort   Well,  the  desert  plants  are  a  living 
proof  of  God's  love  for  all  created  things. 
"When  these  sandstorms  are  due,  and  before  they  rash 


:ni 


82 


BY  FATB  AND  TBAIL. 


in  upon  the  mighty  waste  of  silence  and  sand,  the  cacti 
and  the  flower-bearing  plants  droop  down  and  lie  low 
along  the  earth.  Then,  when  the  storms  have  passed,  the 
plants  slowly,  cantiously,  as  if  to  make  sure  their  enemy 
is  gone,  rise  again  to  their  full  height.  Only  the  mesquite 
and  grease-wood  of  toughened  and  hardened  4bre  refuse 
to  bow  down  to  the  tyrant  of  the  hurrioane,and  urlesstom 
up  by  the  roots  they  never  yield.  But  the  cacti,  save 
alone  the  pitahaya,  of  giant  strength,  tremble  at  the  ap- 
proach of  the  storm,  contract,  shrivel  up  and  lie  low. 

"I  have  often,  in  my  tramps  across  deserts,  stopped 
and  examined  a  cactus  which  wo  call  the  'Bodillo.'  It 
has  no  roots,  is  perfectly  rounded,  and  its  spires  or  nee- 
dles, for  some  mysterious  reason,  point  inward,  as  if  its 
enemy  were  within  itself.  Unlass  it  draws  its  nourish- 
ment from  the  air,  I  do  not  know  how  it  survives.  It  is 
the  plaything  of  the  winds.  When  the  sand  'jtorm  riots 
in  the  desert,  the  wind  plays  with  the  'Bodillo'  and  rolls 
it  along  forty  or  fift:  miles." 
"How  often  do  these  storms  come,  senort" 
"Well,  it's  this  way,  for  your  winters  in  the  North 
you  have  snow  and  ice,  in  the  South  they  have  rain;  here 
on  our  deserts  we  have  winds,  and  these  winds  are  with 
us  for  three  months,  mild  as  a  sea  breeze  to-day,  and  to- 
morrow rushing  with  tli.  speed  of  a  hurricane.  But  to 
come  back  to  the  'Bodillo.'  When  the  storm  of  wind  has 
lifted,  this  ball  cactus  is  left  on  the  desert,  and  if  during 
the  vernal  equinox  rain  falls,  the  plant  throws  out  a  few 
rootlets,  gets  a  grip  somewhere  in  the  sand  till  it  flowers 
and  seeds,  and  is  off  again  with  the  next  wind." 

"Is  there  any  hope  for  a  man  if  he  runs  short  of  water 
forty  or  fifty  miles  out  in  the  desert!" 
"A  man,"  replied  my  host,  "who  is  caught  to  desert 


n  PAia  Ain>  ibail.  g^ 

ways,  never  dies  of  thirst.   An  Indian  will  enter  a  desert 
stretching  away  for  two  hundred  miles,  carrying  with 
him  neither  food  nor  water,  and  yet  it  is  a  thing  unheard 
of  for  an  Indian  to  go  mad  on  the  sandy  waste,  or  die  of 
hunger  or  thirst.    God  in  His  kindness  and  providence 
has  made  provision  for  man  and  animal,  even  in  the 
great  deserts.    There  is  no  desoUtion  of  sand  so  utterly 
bare  and  barren  that  here  and  there  upon  its  forbidden 
surface  there  may  not  be  found  patches  of  the  grease- 
wood,  the  mesquite  and  the  cactus.    Now  the  cholla,  and 
.  tuna,  and  the  most  of  the  cacti,  bear  fruit  in  season,  and 
from  these  fruits  the  Indians    make  a  score  of  dainty 
dishes.    Even  when  not  bearing,  their  barks  and  roots, 
when  properly  prepared,  will  support  life.    Nor  need  any 
man  die  of  thirst,  for  the  pitahaya  and  snaharo  cacti  are 
reservoirs  of  water,  cool,  fresh  and  plentiful.    But  then 
one  must  know  how  to  tap  the  stream.    By  plunging  a 
.'.nife  into  the  heart,  the  water  begins  to  ooze  out  slowly 
and  unsatisfactorily,  but  still  enough  comes  to  save  a 
man's  life.    Of  course,  you  know  that  the  man  familiar 
with  the  moods  of  the  desert  never  travels  without  a  can 
matches  and  a  hatchet.    When  he  is  running  short  of 
water  he  makes  for  the  nearest  bunch  of  columnar  cacti, 
as  the  pitahaya  and  suaharo  are  called  by  us.    He  selects 
his  tree  and  cuts  it  down,  having  already  made  two  fires 
eight  or  ten  feet  apart.    Then  he  makes  a  large  incision 
in  the  middle  of  the  tree,  cuts  off  the  butt  and  the  end, 
and  places  the  log  between  the  fires,  ends  to  fires.    The 
heat  of  the  fires  drives  the  water  in  the  log  to  its  center 
when  it  begins  to  flow  from  the  cut  already  made  into 
hi.s  can.    It  is  by  this  method  the  Indian  and  the  expert 
desert  traveler  renew  their  supply  of  water." 
Communing  with  myself,  on  the  way  to  my  hotel,  I 


84 


BY  ■>ATR  AHD  TBAIL. 


thought,  "So,after  all  is  said  aiid  done,  education  is  very 
much  a  matter  of  locality.  lu  large  centers  of  popula- 
tion the  theoloj' an,  the  philosopher,  the  scientist,  is  a 
groat  man ;  but  thrown  on  his  own  resources,  on  the  wide 
deserts,  in  the  immense  forests,  he  Is  a  nobody  and  dies. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  man  bred  to  desert  ways  or 
trained  to  forest  life,  is  the  educated  man  in  the  wilder- 
ness, for  he  has  conquered  its  secrets.  That  training, 
tht'ii,  apart  from  the  supernatural,  wliioU  best  prepare* 
a  man  to  succeed  in  his  sphere,  which  develops  the  facul- 
ties demanded  by  his  occupation  or  calling,  which  makes 
hira  an  honest,  rugged,  manly  man,  is  education  in  the 
best  acceptance  of  the  often  ill-used  term." 


CHAPTEU  X. 

IHE  noHT  FOB  UFE. 

Don  Kstaban  Ouiteras  did  me  the  kirJness  lo  acceDt 
au  mv>t«t,on  to  dine  with  me  this  evening  and  pay  ml  ' 
partmR  v,„t,  for  I  leave  Buena  ^ista  fo-n.orrol  and 
may  never  ngain  trend  its  hospitable  streetr  H« 
companied  me,  after  dinner,  to  my  hotel  room  anHf, 
opening  a  bottle  of  Zara  MarascUno  InTngi  our 
ejgn..,  I  mduoed  him  to  continue  the  conver  aton  alon« 
the  l.nes  traced  out  the  evening  I  was  his  t^^est  ' 

He  spoke  of  beds  of  lakes  on  mountains  4,5oo  feet  above 
the  Sep  and  o  fossil  and  petrified  skeletons  of  stranKe 
fish  and  animals  found  in  the  beds,  of  the  singular  ZI 
of  the  desert  rat  which,  when  about  to  die,  dmbs  the 
mesqu,te  tree  and  prepares  its  own  grave  in  the  crotch 

L       r:  Z,  Tm  '"  .'""^"«'''»'"J    tunnel    Mwee" 
tains   trL  Jrf  '  •"'^""'"'  "^  •">'«  '"  "">  fflo"- 

LTh    M  "^  ?"■•"'"'''"'  "^  *'"''■■  movements  on  the 

march   their  racapity,  the  blight  of  all  vegetable   I  fe 
after  the  mynad  hosts  had  passed,  and  of  fhe  red  and 

He  refrrLTo  r' t  '""  "'''  -*«™-«n/i- 
Me  referred  to  the  strange  ways  of  the  "side  winder  •' 

or  desert  rattle  snake,  of  the  wisdom  of  iLT^s'^^d 

other  reptUes   and  of  animals  living  and  dying  on  the 

great  ocean  of  sand,  and  of  the  skeletons  of  men  who 

went  mad  an.  died  alone  on  the  wilderness  ordeslla! 


86 


BY  PATH  A»D  TBAIU 


DOS  KBTABAN  8  8T0RV. 

"Were  you  ever  lost  on  the  desert,  Si^ior  Guiterost" 

"No,"  he  answered,  "but  when  I  wuh  u  young  man 

and  was  not  as  well  nccjuainted  with  the  ways  o'  the 

Uisierto  as  I  am  now,  I  had  a  trying  experience,  and 

nearly  lost  my  life. 

"It  was  on  the  'Miierto,'  and  I  wandered  ninety  miles 
over  sands  so  hot  that  I  could  scarcely  walk  on  them, 
though  wearing  thick-soled  shoes.    The  Muerto  desert  is 
in  circumference  230  miles,  and  is,  in  fact,  the  bed  of  an 
ancient  sea,  which  evaporated  or  disappeared  many  thou- 
sands of  years  ago.    During  the  months  of  July  and  Au- 
gust the  Muerto  is  a  furnace,  where  the  silence  is  oppres- 
sive, the  glare  of  the  ash-hot  sand  blinds  the  eyes,  and 
the  burning  air  sucks  water  and  life  from  the  body  of 
man  or  beast.   I  left  the  'Digger'  camp  at  the  foot  of  the 
Corneja  mountain  early  in  the  week,  intending  to  in- 
spect a  copper  'find'  discovered  by  an  Indian  some  fifty 
miles  southwest  of  the  Digger  camp.    The  trail  carried 
me  through  an  ancient  barranca,  widening  into  a  gorge 
which  opened  into  a  canyon,  through  which  in  season 
fiows  what  is  called  the  Bio  Kata.   Here  I  made  camp  for 
the  duy,  cooked  a  meal  and  slept,  for  I  had  started  as 
early  as  3  o'clock  in  the  morning.    The  heat  within  the 
canyon  marked  90  degrees  on  a  small  pocket  thermome- 
ter I  carried  to  test  the  temperature  of  the  nearest  water 
to  the  reported  'find.'    As  the  air  about  me  carried  only 
10  or  12  degrees  of  humidity,  this  heat  in  no  way  incon- 
venienced me.    At  4  o'clock  that  afternoon  I  awoke,  con- 
tinued on  through  the  canyon,  and  in  two  hours  entered 
the  desert. 

"You  must  understand  that  in  this  country  no  man  in 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


87 


^e  Tv  "V."*"""'  '»'«"<'"'''«  of  a  great  de.ert  during 

acme  ash,  would  burn  hun  up,  and  he  could  not  carry 
enough  water  to  meet  the  evaporaUon  from  his  ZyZ 

^L^n  T'V  """^  «•""  P™*^*"'  '»  '"od  i-dTed  thai 
I  began  to  whisper  to  my  ..if  that  before  8  o'clock  of T 
mornmg  I  wouW  strike  tue  foothills  of  the  Sierras  Blln! 
cas  and  leave  the  desert  behind  me 

r^l'Sr^^'J  ^^  '*'°  P'"'^'"'«  ^y^'f  too  much,  or  it 
my  be  that  J  •  as  not  in  the  best  of  condition,  but  abou 
3  m  the  morn,ug  I  sat  down  to  rest.    I  was  traveling  S 
and  brought  with  me  only  enough  water  a.nd  f ood  fo  as 
me  fourteen  hours,  knowing  that  when  I  reached  the 

ToTLZ^'  ""'  '"r '""■«  <"""P  °^  Pedro  Marri 
To  a  meditative  man,  the  ^  ,sert  at  night  has  a  ch.  rm 

strX"""  '/"'f "'"  ^''«  '■"»-  and  sLta^n™ 
s^  ence,  the  great  sohtude,  the  limitless  expansior  of 
wh,te  sand  glistening  mider  a  bright  moon,  and  hnu,^: 

rnH  'TL°'  ^°°'*"'"  •'"'""""y  "t™-"  V  affl  tZ 
mind  and  bear  in  upon  the  soul  a  sensat  of  awe  of 
reverence  and  a  consciousness  of  the  prese   ^  If  old. 

After  a  time,  an  meipressible  sense  of  drowsiness 
possessed  me.  I  had  often  traveled  far  on  deserts  hnt 
never  before  had  I  felt  ,o  utterly  tired  and  sle  ^y  j  re 
membered  saying  to  myself,  'Just  for  a  half  hour  'and 

TosM    ZllTir  r  ""'"«  °^"  '•'^  mountli'ns"" 
rose  to  my  feet,  blessed  myself,  and  moved  on  knowinif 
I  was  going  to  have  a  hard  fight  of  it  * 

n-l"^*  1^t''^°^^  *•"  '""'*  ""'  *•""  "f  a  smelting  fur- 
nace. As  I  walked  my  feet  sank  in  the  yielding  sand  I 
was  very  thirsty,  but  I  could  not  toueh^he  walr  in  my 
canteen  treasuring  it  as  a  raiser  his  gold.  The  blazing 
sun  sucked  away  all  perspiration,  before  it  Ld  time  tf 


88 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


become  sweat  and  collect  upon  the  skin.  To  sweat  wonld 
have  helped  me,  but  no  man  sweats  in  the  desert.  I  now 
discarded  all  my  clothing  but  my  undershirt,  drawers, 
hat  and  boots,  even  my  stockings  I  flung  upon  the  dry 
sand. 

"And  now,  for  the  first  time,  I  took  a  drink  from  my 
canteen,  not  much,  but  enough  to  partially  quench  the 
fire  of  my  parched  tongue.  I  had  my  senses  about  me,  I 
retained' my  will,  and  I  took  the  water,  for  I  knew  that 
my  tongue  was  beginning  to  swell.  At  noon  I  struck  a 
pot-hole,  or  sink,  half  filled  with  clear,  sparkling  water. 
I  took  some  of  it  up  in  the  lid  of  my  canteen,  touched  my 
tongue  to  it  and  found  it  to  be,  what  I  suspected,  impreg- 
nated with  copperas  and  arsenic.  My  body  was  on  fire, 
and  thinking  to  obtain  some  relief,  I  soaked  my  shirt, 
drawers"and  shoes  in  the  beautiful  cool  water,  and  in  my 
wet  clothes  struck  for  the  mountains,  looming  some 
twenty  miles  ahead  of  me.  I  was  a  new  man,  and 
for  an  hour  I  felt  neither  thirst  nor  fatigue. 

"Then  a  strange  numbness  began  to  creep  over  my 
body.  It  was  not  pain,  but  a  feeling  akin  to  what  I  have 
been  told  incipient  paralytics  feel  when  the  demon  of 
paralysis  has  a  .(<rip  on  them.  I  sat  down,  drank  some 
water,  and  for  the  first  time  since  I  left  the  canyon's 
mouth,  took  some  food.  When  I  tried  to  rise  I  fell  over 
on  my  side,  but  I  got  up,  lifted  my  canteen  and  looked 
around  me." 

"Pardon  me,  Don  Estaban,  was  your  mind  becoming 
affected  T" 

"No,  my  brain  was  clear  and  my  will  resolute.  They 
say  hope  dies  hard.  My  hope  never  died,  I  pushed  on, 
resolved  if  I  must  die,  it  would  be  only  when  my  tired  or 
diseased  limbs  could  no  longer  obey  my  will.    Ten  miles. 


BV  PATH  AND  TBAII,.  gg 

at  least,  I  walked,  the  fierce  sun  beating  down  remoree- 
essly  upon  me.  Walked,  did  I  sayf  I  draped  myseU 
through  hell,  tor  my  bones  were  grinding  inThe  Ss 
my  Stan  was  ^ame  and  three  times  I  vested.  I  Cht 
the  cravmgs  of  my  body,  for  if  I  sat  down  I  might  never 
anse.  Not  a  Uving  thing  was  anywhere  in  sight  The 
heve  I  would  have  welcomed  a  brood  of  rattlesnakes  of 

TrZd  m'e;'  *''"^''  '"  '"''''''  '"^«'  -«  '^^  ^' 
''Out  in  the  lonely  desert  I  deliberatelv  stripped  to  the 

body.  I  then,  as  best  I  could,  beat  and  shook  my  shirt  and 
drawers,  for  I  now  began  to  suspect  I  was  being  pofsoned 

clothe!  "T™^  '""'  "'*°''=  '"  ^•''"'^  I  ''«d  ^PP«d  my 
cbthes.  T),os  how  hot  the  air  was,  how  fiercely  blazed 
the  sun,  how  .ue  burning  sand  threw  out  and  into  my  face 
and  eyes  the  pitiless  glare  and  heat. 

"I  dressed,  and,  taking  my  canteen,  slowly  but  reso- 
lutely set  my  face  for  the  mountains,  now  nearing  me 

^Lfl        n?"^'  *°°'^  "  ""'"''^'^  "f  ^at«r,  and  on- 

n«?r?ti^'l"^l°  T'"^  '°  ^''  P*'-^"'  and  fascinating 
narrative,  took  a  few  sips  of  maraschino,  and  said  • 

I  will  weary  you  no  further  with  the  story  of  my  aw- 
ful experience  m  that  accursed  waste  of  sand  and  heat 
I  reached  the  foothills,  how  I  scarcely  know,  but  I  lost 
conscousness,  not  my  reason,  and  those  who  found  me 

they  lifted  me  from  the  arroyo  into  which  I  had  fallen  " 
I  asked  '"'"  ^^"  **'  *"'*'■  *''*  ***^"  °^  *^'  »''^"'  t"P'" 


\l  i? 


90 


BY  PATH  AUD  IBAIIi. 


"Oh,  yes,"  he  Baid,  "in  three  months  I  was  as  well 
as  I  ever  was.  We  Mexicans  are  tough,  and  if  we  only 
take  care  of  ourselves  when  young,  we  can  stand  any- 
thing. You  see,  like  the  Irish,  we  are  the  sons  of  pure 
mothers,  who  obey  the  laws  of  God  and  nature." 

When  Don  Estaban  rose  to  depart,  he  took  from  his 
pocket  a  photograph  of  himself  and  his  family,  and 
handed  it  to  me,  saying :  "Espero  que  le  volvere  a  ver  a 
usted  pronto"— I  hope  to  see  you  soon  again. 

I  took  it  gratefully  and  tenderly  from  his  hand,  assur- 
ing him  of  my  appreciation  of  his  kindness,  my  affection 
and  admiration  for  himself  and  his  family,  and  prom- 
ised to  send  him  from  Mexico  City' a  copy  of  my  "Days 
and  Nights  in  the  Tropics."  I  accompanied  him  to  the 
street,  auTj,  in  farewell,  shook  the  hand  of  a  straight  and 
honest  man,  whose  rugged  face  I  may  never  look  upon 
again. 


— rop,vtlcIit  by  Underwood  &  Underwood.  New  Tort. 

IIAIJ-  Itl-OOTt  iOWBOYS.   rX)WKB  CALIFOENIA. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


THE  DIGGER  INDIANS. 

Although  Lower  California  remains  to-day  as  an  awful 
example  of  some  tremendous  bouleversement  in  the  Mio- 
cene age,  a  land  of  gloom  and  largely  of  abject  sterility, 
yet  it  has  redeeming  features,  and  there  are  hopes  of 
salvation  for  this  gruesome  peninsula.  For  example, 
there  have  lately  been  diwcovered  on  the  Gulf  coast  large, 
very  large  deposits  of  sulphur,  and  north  of  La  Paz,  im- 
mense beds  of  almost  pure  salt.  At  and  around  the  Cer- 
abo  islands,  the  pearl  fisheries,  once  so  productive  and 
valuable,  ar  •  again  becoming  promising.  In  the  northern 
part  of  the  peninsula  there  is  much  excellent  grazing 
land,  calculated  at  900,000  acres,  where  alfalfa,  burr  and 
wild  clover,  and  fields  of  wild  oats,  four  feet  long  and 
full  of  grain,  thrive.  Along  the  shores  of  the  Bav  of 
San  Marco  they  are  now  quarrying  from  vast  beds  the 
finest  alabaster  in  America.  At  Todos  Santos  there  are 
large  quarries  of  white  and  variegated  marble,  and  in 
the  neighboring  mountains  great  deposits  of  copper  ore 
carrying  much  silver.  At  En'^enada  the  Eothschilds  con- 
trol the  mines,  and  have  erected  large  smelting  works  to 
reduce  the  ore. 

Lower  California  has  two  capitals,  Ensenada,  on  the 
North  Pacific  coast,  and  La  Paz,  far  down  on  the  gulf. 
The  tremendous  barriers  of  mountains  and  deserts  be- 
tween the  two  coasts  and  the  distance  by  water  around 
Cape  San  Lucas,  have  made  two  capitals  a  necessitv.  La 
Paz,  at  the  head  of  a  fine,  deep  bay  of  the  same  name, 
has  n  population  of  about  3,000,  nearlv  all  Mexicans     It 


92 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


is  a  town  of  one  broad,  straight  street,  with  witewasbed 
houses  of  stone,  one  storv  liigh,  tree-shaded,  verandabed 
and  jalousied.  The  Tn  pic  of  Cancer  cuts  through  the 
San  Jose  valley  to  the  south.  The  town  and  the  land 
around  it  for  many  miles  are  a  dream  of  joy.  Here  the 
orange  groves  stretch  away  for  many  miles  on  every 
side,  bordered  with  rows  of  cocoanut  palms  which  re- 
spond to  the  slightest  touch  of  breeze,  and  wave  their 
fern-shaped  crowns.  In  the  morning,  when  the  sun  is 
rising  beyond  the  giant  mountains,  the  air  of  the  valley 
is  vibrant  with  the  songs  of  mocking  birds  and  Califor- 
nia magpies  of  many  bued  plumage.  Here  also,  in  the 
alluvian  depressions,  arborescent  ferns  with  wide- 
spreading  leaves,  tower  forty  feet  in  the  midst  of  tropi- 
cal trees,  whose  branches  are  festooned  with  many  va- 
rieties of  orchids  and  flowering  parasites  of  most  bril- 
liant hues. 

The  completion  of  the  Panama  canal  will  mean  much 
prosperity  to  the  west  coast,  for  a  railroad  will  then  be 
built  from  Magdalena  Bay  to  San  Diego,  Southern  Cali- 
fornia, connecting  with  the  Southern  Pacific  for  New 
Orleans,  Chicago  and  the  East.  The  west  coast  will  then 
probably  become  a  great  health  resort,  for  the  climate 
is  unsurpassed  and  chalybate  and  thermal  springs  are 
everywhere.  Some  far-seeing  Boston  capitalists,  antici- 
pating a  great  future  for  this  section  of  Lower  Califor- 
nia, have  purchased  the  Flores  estate,  427  miles  long  by 
sixteen  wide.  The  purchase  includes  harbor  rights  on 
Magdalena  Bay,  and  is  the  longest  coast  line  owned  by 
any  one  man  or  firm  in  the  world. 

The  population  of  Lower  California  is  about  25,000, 
principally  Mexicans  and  half-castes.  There  are  600  or 
700  foreigners  engaged  in  mining,  and  some  Yaqui  and 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


93 


Mayo  Indiana,  pearl  fishers  i„  tUe  large  ba,-  of  Pechil- 

iJ^  ""^  ""%"?"  interesting  and  pathetically  attract- 
"e  members  of  the  human  race  in  North  America  are  the 
melancholy  remnants  of  the  early  tribes  of  Cwer  clu 

tern  ranges,  and  now  almost  extinct.  In  the  history  of  tZ 

t  wjf  ^V^ff  »°  ^"^  or  had  approached  as  near  as 

IniZ.  "^""lu"  ^"  '"™'"'  '"''°«'  to  the  state  of  off" 
animals,  as  the  wretched  Cochimis,  or  "Digger  Indians ' 

family  or  tnbe  of  American  Indians,  occupied  a  dist  „ot 
position  0   their  own,  and,  indeed,  may  jXe  been  fdif 

Cort^r  ^  '''"'  •"'  "■'""  '"«  '""'"'"'"J  by  the  Gulf  of 
Cortez  to  the  east,  and  impassable  deserts  on  the  nortt 
they  were  isolated,  it  may  be,  for  thousands  of  yeaS 
xrom  a  commmiication  with  other  aboriginal  trills 
and  m,ti  the  coming  of  the  Spaniards  miderO^ondo  they 
knew  nothing  of  the  existence  of  any  other  TZe.I 
cep     perhaps,  the  coast  tribes  of  Sonora  anHioa" 

If  Z  rT^'  """^  *"•""  ''''"*'='^  •«•«  °°  affinity  to  those 
dlrffl     "  °'  '°"*''*"'  '«'«<'"«•    It  "  doubtfu    in! 

habits,  tribal  peculiarities  and    characteristics     allied 

2  Wn"  '°^  "^"P'^  °'  *"«  «""'''  Pacific  Wand 
hir  Wilham  Hunter  in  his  chapter  on  the  "\r«„  a 

e^r:;::  ra^^^itt^-^  - '"---  -^ 

reached  tbe  low^eXI/btrde^^d^^^^^^ 
Dr  KaneT''  a'  f  ""^  r  "Leaf-weaSrs."  of  T^S 

Sietr^rx:^'?-^rt4rsc 


m 


1  id 


9^ 


BT  PATH  AlCD  TBAIL. 


the  fugitive  Eskimoi,  the  "Ka-Kaakii,"  whom  he  met  at 
"Oodiend  Ledge,"  where  his  ship  was  ice-looked  and 
where  flftj-seren  of  his  dogs  went  mad  from  oold  and 
died.  These  Indians  were  fonl,  Terminized  and  filthy, 
and  when  he  fed  them  raw  meat  and  blubber  "each  slept 
after  eating,  his  raw  chunk  lying  beside  him  on  the  buf- 
falo skin,  and,  as  he  awoke,  bis  first  act  was  to  eat  and 
the  next  to  sleep  again.  They  did  not  lie  down,  but  slum^ 
bered  away  in  a  sitting  posture,  with  the  head  resting 
on  the  breast" 

Those  savages  were  compelled  by  the  intense  cold  of 
their  northern  home  to  olpth  themselves  and  construct 
some  sort  of  shelters,  and  even  the  Wissa  family,  or 
I'leaf  wearers,"  of  Sir  William  Hunter,  yielded  to  an 
instinct  of  shame,  bnt  the  "Digger  Indians"  roamed  en- 
tirely naked  and  built  no  temporary  or  permanent  shel- 
ters. Their  vermin  infested  hair  drooped  long  over  their 
faces  and  backs ;  they  were  tanned,  by  unnumbered  yeurs 
of  sun  and  wind  exposure,  to  the  hue  of  West  Coast 
n^;roes,  and,  worst  of  all,  they  were  victims  of  porno- 
graphic and  sexual  indecencies  pitiful  in  their  destruct- 
ive results.  A  member  of  Otondo's  expedition  and  col- 
ony of  1683,  writing  of  Lower  California,  says:  "We 
found  the  land  inhabited  by  brutish,  naked  people,  so- 
domitio,  drunken  and  besotted." 

The  noble  savage  of  Dryden  and  Cooper  is  all  right 
in  poetry  and  romance,  but  the  real  man,  when  you  meet 
iiim  and  know  him,  is  indeed  a  creature  to  be  pitied, 
against  whom  the  elements  have  conspired  and  with 
whom  circumstances  have  dealt  harshly.  God  deliver  us 
from  the  man  of  nature,  unrestrained  by  fear  ?>f  punish- 
ment, unchecked  by  public  opinion,  by  law  or  oi-der,  un- 
tamed by  social  amenities,  unawed  by  the  gospel  of  the 


BT  PATH  AMD  T«A1L.  95 

hereafter.  The  nearer  we  c-oiiif  to  the  man  who  has  no 
higher  law  than  his  own  will,  nor  knows  obedience  to  a 
higher  authority  timu  himself,  the  nearer  we  come  to  a 
dangerous  animal  who  eats  raw  meat,  indecently  expose, 
himself,  loves  dirt,  hates  peace,  wallows  in  the  flllh  of 
unrestrained  desire  and  kills  the  weaker  man  he  does  not 
Uce  whenever  the  temptation  comes  and  the  opportunity 
AuJ^"'-    t^  '"'  '"  "■«  "'""  «''"'  ^'"'.  'h«  woman 

liK  ^  ^°*  '••  *^"  ""  '"'"'-and  all  nature  exposes 
nothing  0  the  pity  and  melancholy  wonder  of  man  more 
supremely  sad  and  heartrending  that  woman  reduced  to 
savagery. 

I  n^  r?,*  '"•''T  *'"'  '^taWished  sixteen  missions  in 
^n^."^  CaWornia  begmning  in  1683,  sent  to  their  pro- 
jcial  m  Mexi™  City  from  time  to  time,  accurate  reports 
of  the  conditjou  of  the  tribes  and  the  progress  of  relfgion 
and  cm.7,tion  among  them.  From  the  letters  of  these 
great  pnests  which,  in  places,  bear  upon  the  degeneracy 

and  the  al'  T^*""  1  *"'  ^""^^  Calif omia  ^Indians' 
and  the  appalling  degradation  to  which  it  is  possible,  un- 
der  adverse  conditions,  for  human  beings  to  descend 
I^^b^  M  ""  *J«  ^°"»»«-  «tant  of  tlese  wre£ 
tribes.  Many  of  these  letters  or  "Belaciones,"  are  yet  in 
manuscript,  and  to  the  average  student  of  missionary 
history,  inaccessible.    The  historical  value  of  these  "Ee- 

IttT?*  *r  °^  """"^  ''**°  '°°«  understood  by  schol- 
ars  but,  to  the  general  reader,  even  to  the  educated  gen- 
eral reader,  they  were  and  are  somewhat  of  a  myth  At 
a  very  early  period  their  value  was  recognized  by' that 
great  traveler  and  historian  Charlevoix,  who  in  1743 
wrote :  "There  is  no  other  source  to  which  we  cau  resort 
to  learn  the  progress  of  religior,  the  Indians,  and 


I   M 


96  BY  PA1H  AMD  TBAIU 

to  know  the  tribes  •  •  *  of  the  Apostolic  labors  of  the 
missionaries  they  give  very  edifying  aceounts.  '  Some 
day,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  the  Mexican  government,  follow- 
ing the  example  of  the  Canadian  parliament,  which  in 
1838  printed  the  "Belat  ons  of  the  Jesuits"  in  Canada, 
will  give  to  the  world  in  editional  form  the  letters  of  the 
Jesuits  in  Mexico  and  Lower  California.  However,  from 
the  books  compiled  from  these  letters,  such  as  those  of 
Fathers  Venagas,  Clavigero  and  Verre,  we  obtain  a  most 
pathetic  and  melancholy  narrative  of  the  woeful  state 
of  the  tribes  before  the  coming  of  the  fathers. 

Apart  from  the  divine  courage  and  enthusiasm  of  the 
Spanish  missionary  fathers,  nothing  hos  excited  my  ad- 
miration more  than  the  learning  and  scholarship  of  the 
priests  sent  by  the  Catholic  church  for  the  evangelizing 
of  savoge  tribes  and  barbarous  peoples.  From  on  off- 
hand study  of  the  brutish  and  deplorable  ignorance  of 
many  of  the  tribes,  it  would  be  quite  reasonable  to  as- 
sume that  men  of  simple  foith,  good  health  and  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  catechism  of  the  Council  of  Trent,  would  be 
best  adapted  for  the  redemption  of  a  people  "seated  in 
darkness  ond  in  the  shadow  of  death."  But  Borne,  with 
her  occumuloted  wisdom  of  centuries  and  unparalleled 
experience  of  human  nature  under  adverse  conditions, 
trains  her  neophytef,  destined  for  foreign  missions  to 
the  highest  possible  efficiency.  We  are  not,  then,  when 
acquainted  with  her  methods  of  education,  surprised  to 
find  among  her  priests,  living  amid  the  snualid  surround- 
ings of  savagery,  men  of  high  scholarship  and  special- 
ists in  departmental  science.  Of  ti-ese  was  Father  Sigis- 
mundo  Taravel,  a  pioneer  of  the  Palifomia  missions. 
In  1729  he  established  the  mission  of  St.  Rose,  near  the 
Bay  of  Palms.    Before  volunteering  for  the  California 


BY  PATH  ARD  TKAIL. 


97 


miiiiionH  he  wan  b  profesBor  in  the  Univeriity  of  Alcala 
Spam,  and  when  be  entered  the  de«crt  and  mountain  »ol. 
itndes  of  th.»  peninsula  wa«  in  the  prime  of  hix  young 
manhood.    He  wn»  dowered  with  exceptional  talentH,  and 
when  rammi.»ioned  by  his  superior,  Father  Kchivari,  to 
collect  material  for  the  history  of  the  land  and  its  inbabi- 
tants  he  brought  to  the  discharge  of  his  task  exceptional 
mdnstry    unflagging  patience  and  great   ability.      For 
twenty-three  years  he  remained  in  Lower  California   in- 
strncting  and  Christianizing  the  tribes  around  the  »,,vof 
Falms  and  visiting  the  most  remote  corners  of  thc'po- 
mnsula  m  quest  of  material  for  his  history      He  took 
the  altitude  of  mountains,  determined  the  courses  of  un- 
derground rivers,  made  a  geodetic  survey  of  the  south- 
ern end  of  the  peninsula,  and  gave  names  to  manv  of  the 
bays  and  miets.    Broken  in  health,  he  retired  to  the  Jes- 
uit college  at  Guadalajara,  Mexico,  where  he  compk-ted 
his  histonr  in  manuscript.    From  this  vo'aminous  work, 
FaUiers  Clavigero  and  Vinegas  and  less  kr^.wn  writers 
on  Lower  California,  drew  much  of  the  mat  r.al  for  their 
publications. 

1  have  centered  upon  this  digression  that  you  may  nn 
derstand  the  reliability  and  accuracy  of  the  infornmtion 
we  inherit  beanng  on  the  daily  life  and  habits  of  a  peo- 
ple which  I  believe,  to  have  been  the  most  degraded 
known  to  history.  ^f5>n"«j 

There  are  certain  disgusting  details  entering  into  the 
.ocial  life  and  habits  of  this  unhappy  and  abandoned 
people  which  I  dare  not  touch  upon.  Even  the  barbar- 
ous tnbes  of  Sinaloa  and  Sonora,  from  their  privileged 
lands  and  hunting  grounds  across  the  gulf,  looked  down 
npon  the  half-starved  creatures,  and  held  them  in  detes- 


98 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


tation,  as  did  the  Puritans  the  wrecks  of  humanity  that 
occupied  the  soil  of  Massachusetts. 

The  Europeans  of  Otondo's  time,  who  attempted,  in 
1C83,  to  open  a  settlement  on  the  Peninsula,  were  aston- 
ished at  a  condition  of  savagery  lower  than  they  had  ever 
henrd  of,  and  their  disgust  and  horror  with  the  land  and 
iti  people  were  so  great  that  they  abandoned  their  inten- 
tion of  remaining  in  the  country. 

Powerless  from  the  awful  conditions  under  which  they 
were  compelled  to  support  existence,  knowing  nothing  of 
cultivation  of  any  kind,  doomed  to  imprisonment  in  a 
land  carrying  an  anathema  of  sterility  and  where  large 
game  had  become  extinct,  the  tribes  of  Lower  California, 
among  all  the  barbarous  and  savage  people  of  America, 
"trod  the  wine  press  of  the  fury  of  the  wrath  of  God,  the 
Almighty." 

The  greater  part  of  the  peninsula  at  the  time  of  the 
coming  of  the  fathers,  was  in  possession  of  the  Cochimis, 
the  Gualcuris  and  the  Pericuis,  who  occupied  the  south- 
ern part  and  some  of  the  adjacent  lands. 

They  were  a  long  haired,  wild-looking  people,  scorched 
into  negro  blackness,  naked  and  not  ashamed.  Morals, 
in  the  technical  sense,  they  had  none,  they  could  not  be 
charged  with  sin,  for  they  had  no  knowledge  of  the  law, 
and  therefore  they  could  commit  no  breach  of  the  law. 
They  bored  holes  in  the  ears,  lips  and  nose,  inserting  in 
the  openings  bones,  shells  or  sticks.  They  bore  only 
names  of  common  gender,  which  they  received  while  yet 
in  the  womb.  Without  fixed  abodes  they  roamed  the 
country  in  search  of  food,  supporting  life  on  snakes, 
roasted  grasshoppers  and  ants,  on  wild  fruit  and  roots 
dug  from  the  cacti  beds,  and  because  of  this  rooting  habit 
they  were  called  by  the  Spaniards  "Cavadores"— theDig- 


BY  PATH   AND  TBAIL.  99 

gers.    Here  is  what  Father  Ugarte  writes  of  the  things 
on  which  they  sustained  life:    "They  live  on  rats,  mice 
and  worms,  lizards  and  snakes,  bats,  grasshoppers  and 
crickets;  a  kind  of  harmless  green  caterpillar,  about  a 
firger  long,  on  roots  and  barks  and  an  abominable  white 
worm,  the  length  and  thickness  of  one's  thumb."  x^ather 
Clavigero  adds  they  never  washed  themselves,  and  that 
m  their  filthiness  they  surpassed  the  brutes.  Their  hair 
was  crawling  with  vermin,  and  their  stupidity  was  so 
dense  that  they  could  not  count  beyond  five,  and  this 
number  they  expressed  by  one    hand.      The    different 
tribes.  Father  Basgert  tells  us,  represented  by  no  means 
rational  beings,  but  resembled  far  more  herds  of  wild 
swine,  which  run  about  according  to  their  own  liking,  be- 
ing together  to-dayand  scattered  to-morrow, till  theymeet 
again  by  accident  at  some  future  time.    They  had  no  mar- 
riage ceremony,  nor  any  word  in  their  language  to  express 
marriage.    Like  birds  and  beasts  they  paired  off  accord- 
ing to  fancy.    They  practiced  polygamy,  each  man  taking 
as  many  wives  as  would  attach  themselves  to  him,  they 
were  his  slaves  and  supported  him.    Their  forebears  had 
exterminated  or  driven  into  the  inaccessible  mountain 
canyons  the  larger  game  of  the  peninsula,  the  deer,  the 
antelope,  the  big-horn,  the  ibex.   They  tracked  the  flight 
of  buzzards,  with  greedy  eyes,  and  followed  to  share  with 
them  the  putrefying  carcasses  of  animals  dead  from  dis- 
ease or  killed  by  pumas  or  mountain  lions. 

When,  by  good  luck,  they  captured  a  hare  or  a  jack- 
rabbit,  they  attached  a  small  morsel  of  the  raw  and  bleed- 
ing flesh  to  a  fiber  cord  and,  after  swallowing  it,  drew  it 
out  after  a  few  minutes,  and  passed  the  partially  di- 
gested mass  to  another,  who  repeated  the  foul  act.  Yet 
they  were  not  cannibals,  and  in  abstaining  from  human 


i'H 


100 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


Besh  offered  a  striking  contrast  to  the  Aztecs  of  Mexico 
City,  who,  fed  on  human  flesh,  cut  and  salted  the  bodies 
of  prisoners  captured  in  battle  and  sold  the  meat  at  the 
public  markets.  They  were  a  fierce  and  savage  nation, 
without  law,  tribal  rules  or  government  of  any  kind,  un- 
ruly and  brutal  in  their  passions,  mercilessly  cruel  to 
their  enemies,  were  more  gregarious  than  social  and  of  a 
cold  blooded  disposit'u  n  often  manifested  in  treachery, 
in  relentless  persecutions  and  in  assassinations.  Oton- 
do's  colonists  charged  them  in  addition  with  asinine  stu- 
pidity, ingratitude,  inconstancy  and  irredeemable  lazi- 
ness. The  Jesuit  fathers  wrote  more  kindly  of  them, 
they  condoned  their  bestiality  and  shameless  licentious- 
enss  by  reason  of  their  squalid  surroundings  and  sordid 
conditions,  but  then  we  must  remember  that  from  the 
day  the  Jesuits  opened  their  first  mission  among  them, 
the  "Digger  Indians"  became  their  spiritual  children 
and  wards  of  the  church.  This  was  the  land  and  these 
the  people  to  whom,  in  their  unexampled  abandonment 
and  unspeakable  degeneracy,  the  missionary  priests  of 
the  Society  of  Jesus  brought  the  message  of  salvation, 
the  hope  of  happiness  in  this  life  and  the  assurance  of  a 
resurrection  to  a  higher  and  better  life  beyond  the  grave. 
Now  it  may  be  asked  why  I  have  dwelt  at  such  length 
on  this  unpleasant  subject,  why  I  have  pictured  so  grue- 
somcly,  even  if  truthfully,  the  disgusting  habits  of  a 
foul  and  filthy  people!  I  have  done  so  that  those  who 
now  read  this  work  may  learn  and  understand  what  man- 
ner of  men  they  were  who,  for  Christ's  sake  and  for 
the  sake  of  perishing  souls,  said  "good-bye"  forever  to 
their  friends  at  home,  to  all  tliat  men  in  this  world  value 
and  prize,  to  the  teeming  vineyards  of  sunny  Spain,  to 
ease,  comfort  and  the  delights  of  companionship  with  re- 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


101 


anlj  to  the  horrors  of  hourly  association  with  revolting 

with  hlthy  and  uuhosp.table  hordes.  The  "Disgor  In 
dmn     was  a  man,  so  was  the  priest.    The  Digger  Indian 

tne  letTlf  tf  ',"  *f'  '?''''  ""'  '°  ''""^^  '-'--  "''0- 
hero  and  to  the  plane  of  the  saint.  What  conspiracy  of 
accidents,  what  congeries  of  events,  what  causes  ca- 
bined to  make  a  brute  of  one  and  a  civili.ed  and  an  iion- 

rover"5       ,  '''  '"^'"■-     '''^"'  ""-^'^i-d  passions, 
ungoverned  will,  unregulated  desires,  coutempi  for  ai 
aw  human  and  divine  in  the  beginning  and  then  entire 
gnorance  of  it,  and  finally  well-nigh  desperate  cond'! 
tions  of  existence  and  almost  utter  destitution  and,there- 
fore  impossible  conditions  of  civilization,  made  the  Di<r- 
EfhnM     "■  n"''!'"  •^''"'*  P"''^''  t*"*  ^'">  ""d  the  saint  f 
of  the  priest  were  barbarians,  and  on  the  downward  road 
to  savagery.    When  Pope  Imiocent  I.,  eai-.y  in  the  fifth 
cen  ury,  sent  his  missionaries  to  civilize  and  preach  the 
doctrines  of  our  Divine  Lord  to  the  Spaniards  and  those 

tLuH  71  P'°"  "•  '^'y  ^«'-«'  "^  ^«  learn  'rom 
the  letter  of  the  Pop„  to  Deceutius,  given  over  to  foul- 
on'  T  ..  '7'"  '5  "^  '^"°"°^-  "^^^  "'^"^1^  lifted  them 
out  of   their  degradation,   civilized   and   Christianized 

natfon  "  '^t  ^'^T'l'  """""^^  '""^^^  "-  i-eroie 
nation.  The  same  church  with  her  consecrated  mis- 
sionaries was  leading  out  from  the  shadow  of  death  the 
Digger  Indians  and  would  have  made  a  civilized  and 
Chnstian  community  of  them  if  she  had  been  left  for 
fifty  years  m  undisturbed  possession  of  the  field 


:1      I 


CHAPTEK  XII. 

THE   JESUITS  AND   THE   DIGOEB  INDIANS 

ou    race    Han  an  IT''  *".  "generate  and  humanize 
=11  fi      J  '^^  disquisitions  of  philosophers  and 

al     he  discourses  and  writings  of  mo^ralists'^^iuce  thj 

auc   furnisa  us  examples  of  the  influence  on  their  souls 
of  he  grace  and  teaching  of  the  divine  Master    But  pa 
teularly  do  we  expect  from  those  whom  Cicero    aZd 
divine  men  and  whom  we  honor  with  the  exa   edti  le  o^ 
priests  lessons  of  sublime  abnegation,  of  pu    ty  of  Jife 
and    when  the  occasion  demands  it,  ;f  hero  fsacrifice 

ot  our  race  the  centuries  proclaim  since  the  resurrection 
of  our  Lord  the  sanctity  and  heroism  of  vast  num."     oJ 

aZZlZ  "^  T  "'"  ^""""^-^  *''^"-  g-erations  Ld 
died  confessors  and  martyrs.  Of  these  were  the  m.m 
bers  of  the  missionary  orders  of  the  church  and  am", 
them  were  many  of  the  order  established  by  l^Zl 


104 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


Loyola  for  the  conversiou  of  the  heathen  and  the  sav- 

"'^The  Jesuit  fathers  on  the  American  missions  showed 
to  the  world  an  example  of  missionary  zeal  a  sublime 
enthusiasm,  a  steadiness  of  perseverance,  of  suft.nng 
and  of  persecution  heroically  borne  with  a  hope  and 
resignation  which,  while  memory  lives,  wUl  enorcle  their 
uamTwith  a  halo  of  glory.  "No  deeds."  says  Cicero 
"are  more  laudable  than  those  which  are  done  without 
ostentation  and  far  from  the  sight  of  men."  Buried  in 
the  solitude  of  great  wastes  or  amid  the  desolation  of 
towering  sierras,  away  from  the  temptations  of  vain 
glory,  they  become  dead  to  the  world  and  possessed 
tteir  souls  in  unalterable  peace.  "Maligners  may  tauut 
the  Jesuits  if  they  will,"  writes  Parkman  "^.th  credu- 
lity superstition  and  blind  enthusiasm,  but  slander  it- 
self cannot  accuse  then,  of  hypocrisy  or  «>"l»tion^ 

We  have  already  learned  something  of  the  awful  de- 
gradation of  the  tribes.  Allow  me  to  anticipate  the  seri- 
ous nature  of  the  struggle  the  missionaries  w-ere  now  en- 
gaged  in  by  an  extract  from  a  sketch  of  the  Sonora  mis- 
sion, written  by  one  then  laboring  among  the  tribes 
■'The  disposition  of  the  Indians,"  writes  the  Priest, 
•'rests  on  .our  foundations,  each  one  worse  than  the 
other,  and  thev  are  ignorance,  ingratitude,  inconstancy 
and  laziness.  Their  ignorance  is  appalling  and  causes 
them  CO  act  as  children.  Their  ingratitude  is  such  that 
whoever  wishes  to  do  them  good,  must  arm  himself  with 
the  firm  resolution  of  looking  to  God  for  his  reward,  for 
should  he  expect  gratitude  from  them  he  is  sure  to  meet 
with  disappointment.  Their  laziness  and  horror  of  all 
kind  of  work,  is  so  great  that  neither  exhortation,  nor 
prayers,  nor  the  threat  of  punishment  are  sufficient  to 


BY  PATH  AKD  IBAIL. 


105 


prevail  upon  them  to  procure  the  necessaries  of  life  by 
tilling  their  own  lands;  their  inconstancy  and  want  of 
resolution  is  heart-breaking." 

And  now  it  may  interest  my  readers  to  be  informed 
of  the  methods  and  the  discipline  of  reclamation  fol- 
lowed by  the  missionary  fathers  when  dealing  with  sav- 
ages  either  in  northern  Canada  or  on  the  shores  of  the 
i-acihc.    Religious  and  moral  teaching  naturally  under- 
aid  their  system.    They  attached  supreme  importance 
to  oral  teachmg  and  explanations  of  the  doctrines  of  the 
church,  Iterating,  reiterating  and   repeating   till   they 
were  satisfied  their  instructions  had  penetrated  into  the 
obtuse  brains  of  their  swarthy  hearers,  lodged  there 
and  were  partially,  at  least,  understood.    In  the  begin- 
ning ,nd  to  attract  them  to  the  divine  offices  and  instruc- 
fions  they  fed  them  after  the  services  were  over.    They 
were  dealing  with  "bearded  children,"  as  one  of  the 
fathers  wrote  and  as  there  was  only  a   child's   brain 
in  a  man  s  body  they  were  compelled  to  appeal  to  their 
imagination,  their  emotions  and  affections  rather  than 
to  their  intellects.    Having  in  a  measure  won  their  good 
will  they  began  to  teach  the  children,  singing,  reading 
and  writing.    They  composed  catechisms  in  the  native 
dialects,  msisted  on  the  children  memorizing  the  chac- 
ters  which  the  fathers  with  heroic  patience  explained 
and  unfolded. 

They  now  established  a  children's  choir,  introduced 
into  the  services  lights,  incense,  processions,  genuflex- 
ions beautiful  vestments,  the  use  of  banners  and  flowers 
for  the  purpose  of  decoration.  They  brought  from  Mex. 
ico,  sacred  pamtings  and  the  stations  of  the  cross  which 
they  used  not  alone  as  incentives  to  devotion  but  as  ob- 
ject lessons  in  religion.    The  rude  and  simple  chapels 


..       H 


lOf. 


BY  PATH   AND  TRAIL. 


which  they  built  with  the  holp  of  their  newly  made  con- 
verts were  not  only  templcn  where  the  holy  sacrifice  was 
offered  and  prayers  said,  Init  they  hecoine  contsecrated 
kindergartens  where  the  altar,  the  crucifix,  the  way  of 
the  cross  and  the  painting  of  the  Last  .ludgnient  taught 
their  own  lessons.     By  pictures,  by  music,  by  art  and 
song,  and  symbolic  representations,  by  patience  and  af- 
fection they  developed  the  stupid  minds  and  won  over 
the  callous  hearts  of  these  benighted  children  of  the 
desert.    The  fathers  in  time  choose  from  their  converts 
assistants  known  as  Temastranes,  who  taught  catechism 
to  the  children,  acted  as  sacristans  and  explained  from 
time  to  time  the  rudiments  of  religion  to  the  pagan  In- 
dians.   They  appointed  for  every  congregation  a  choir 
master,  known  as  the  maestro,  who  could  read  and  write, 
was  comissioned  to  lead  the  singers,  male  and  female, 
and  teach  others  to  play  on  musical  instruments.  In  time 
they  became  enamored  with  their  work  and  the  progress 
they  were  making,  so  much  so  indeed  that  one  of  the 
fathers  writes:     "It  is  wonderful  how  these  Indians, 
who  can  neither  read  nor  write,  learn  and  retain  two, 
three  or  four  different  masses,  psalms,  chants  of  the  of- 
fice of  the  dead,  chants  for  Holy  Week,  vespers  for  festi- 
vals, etc."     Then  when  the  fathers  succeeded  in  gather- 
ing them  into  communities  and  the  children,  under  their 
fostering  care,  had  grown  into  young  men  and  women, 
they  taught  them  different  mechanical  trades  and  many 
of  the  Indians  became  tailors,  carpenters,  tillers  of  the 
soil,  blacksmiths,  butchers,  stone  cutters  and  masons.  "I 
know,"  writes  the  author  of  the  "Rudo  Ensayo,"  "sev- 
eral Opates  and  Eudebes  who  can  work  at  all    these 
trades  and  who  now  play  on  musical  instruments  with 
no  little  skill."    It  has  always  taken  centuries  to  graft 


BV  I'ATII   AND   TRAIL. 


11)7 


upon  siiviiRery  nnytliiiiK  iippnuuliiiiK  a  high  eivilizntion, 
yet  111  thirty  yoar.s  tliuso  devmit  priests  had  clmiiKed 
thesf  ehil.lren  of  the  desert  and  tlie  mountain  from  eat- 
ers of  raw  meat,  stone  too!  users  aad  Krinch'rs  of  aeorn 
meal  in  rocl<  bowls  to  tillers  of  the  soil,  weavers  of  elotli, 
workers  in  metal,  players  on  musical  instruments  nud 
smgers  of  saered  hynms. 

Tlie  eonseeruted  man  who  entered  ui>on  the  territory 
of  n  savage  trihe  to  make  to  tlie  owners  of  the  soil  ii 
proclamation  of  the  will  of  Jesus  Christ,  knew  from  the 
history  of  tiie  past  that  he  might  be  murdered  while  de- 
livering his  message.    His  mission  <lenmnded  from  him 
unflinclnhg  courage,  good  liealth,  a  living  conseiousnes.s 
that  the  eye  of  God  was  upon  him;  demanded,  in  fact, 
that  he  clothe  himself  in  the  garments  of  the  hero  and 
the  martyr.     AVe  must   remember  that  hv   nature  the 
missionaries  were  men  like  others  of  our  'race:  swayed 
by  the  same  impulses;  animated  by  human  hopes;  agi- 
tated by  the  same  fears;  subject  to  the  same  passions 
Bnt  the  practice  of  daily  self-denial  and  self-sacrifice- 
the  crucifixion  of  the  tiesh  with  all  its  earthlv  appetites 
and  desires;  indifference  to  worldly  honors  and  worldly 
rewards,  contempt  for  the  vanities  of  society,  a  life  of 
hourly  intercourse  with  heaven,  and  a  supreme  puritv  of 
intentum  raised  them  in  time  unto  the  plane  of  the  super- 
natural.   Outside  of  the  immediate  companions  of  their 
order  they  were  unknown,  they  coveted  ob.scuritv  and 
were  satisfied  to  be  forgotten  of  men.    "It  is  possible," 
writes  Marcus  Aurelius,  "at  once  to  be  a  divine  man,  vet 
a  man  unknown  to  all  the  world." 

It  is  impossible  to  study  their  lives  and  not  feel  that 
they  were  men  eminently  holy  and  of  tender  conscience, 
men  actms:  under  the  abiding  .sense  of  the  presence  and 
omniscience  of  God.  living  in  his  holv  fear  and  walking 


I  I 


108 


BT  PATH  AND  TBAUi. 


in  his  ways.  "If  ye  labor  only  to  please  men,  ye  are 
fallen  from  your  high  estate,"  wrote  Francis  Xavier  to 
the  members  of  the  order  in  Portugal. 

Preaching  the  precepts  of  self-denial  to  men  and 
women  given  over  to  sensual  indulgence,  to  carnal 
pleasures,  and  with  whom  freedom  to  think  and  act  as 
they  pleased  was  an  immemorial  right,  these  men  of  God 
came  as  enemies  making  war  on  the  dearest  traditions 
of  the  family  and  the  established  customs  and  habits  of 
the  tribe. 

F.rm  the  cradle  to  the  grave,  this  religion  of  the 
strangers  forced  on  their  savage  natures  a  new  law  of 
conduct,  new  habits,  new  conceptions  of  action  and  of 
life.  It  entered  above  all  into  that  sphere  within  which 
the  individual  will  of  the  savage  man  had  been  till  now 
supreme,  the  sphere  of  his  own  hearth;  it  curtailed  his 
power  over  his  wife  and  child;  it  forbade  infanticide,  the 
possession  of  more  than  one  woman  and  commanded  the 
abiding  with  that  woman  and  with  her  alone.  It  chal- 
lenged almost  every  social  act;  it  denied  to  the  brav? 
cruelty  to  an  enemy  and  the  right  to  torture  his  foe;  it 
made  war  on  his  very  thoughts  if  they  were  foul.  It  held 
up  gluttony  and  drunkenness,  to  which  they  were  wedded 
and  which  alone  made  life  worth  living,  as  abominable 
vices;  it  interfered  with  the  unlawful  gratification  of 
sexual  desire  and  condemned  killing  for  revenge  or  gain 
under  threat  of  eternal  fire.  It  claimed  to  control  every 
circumstance  of  life  and  imposed  abstinences  and  fasts 
on  men,  at  all  times,  ravenous  for  food  and  drink. 

When  reading  of  the  martyrdom  of  many  of  these 
heroic  priests  our  wonder  is,  not  that  forty-seven  of 
them  were  done  to  death  when  delivering  the  message 
of  the  Crucified  Christ,  but  that  any  one  of  them  escaped 
the  horrors  of  the  torch  or  the  scalping  knife. 


!IM 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  VACA  DE  LVUBRE. 

The  morning  I  left  Santa  Cruz  for  the  historic  town 
of  Loretto  I  went  to  assist  at  mass  in  the  only  church  in 
the  village.    It  was  as  early  as  6  o'clock  and  I  was  sur- 
prised and  edified  to  see  the  number  of  Mexicans  and 
Mexican  half-bloods  who  were  waiting  for  the  service  to 
begin.  After  mass,  as  I  was  passing  and  repassing,  ex- 
amming  the  windows  and  certain  pecnliarities  of   the 
architecture,  I  was  struck  with  the  singular  appearance 
of  a  half-breed  woman  who  was  kneeling  by  one  of  the 
pillars,  with  a  number  of  children  also  Itneeling  beside 
her;  a  group  like  which  we  see  carved  in  marble  on  some 
of  the  ancient  tombs  of  Europe.    While  I  was  studying 
from  a  respectful  distance  their  features  and  facial  ex- 
pressions, the  Mexican  priest  who  had  offered  up  the 
Holy  Sacrifice  came  out  from  the  sanctuary  and  in  a  sub- 
dued voice  bade  me  good  morning.   After  an  interchange 
of  courtesies  I  asked  him, 

"Why  is  this  poor  woman  crouching  there  with  her 
children?" 

He  answered,  just  as  if  it  were  an  every  day  occur- 
rence : 

"Some  poor  woman,  I  suppose,  who  has  something  to 
ask  of  God." 
Then  observing  and  turning  to  me  he  said : 
"She  is  the  wife  of  a  Mason  who  was  hurt  by  a  fall 
two  or  three  days  ago,  the  family  is  quite  destitute 
and  no  doubt  they  have  come  to  ask  help  of  God."  With- 
out interrupting  her  devotions,  I  laid  down  by  the  base 


".'! 


1U» 


BV  PATH  ANU  TRAIL. 


3 


of  tlio  i>illnr  wlint  was  n  trill.'  to  mo,  Imt  a  Kn.lscn.l  to 
htT  »nd  her  family;  upon  which,  without  tlmuk.uK  uio 
exci'l't  I'v  a  <'"ii>-tooH8  iucliiuitioii  of  the  hfiiil,  she  wont 
up  to  the  hiKl'  nltar,  foUowod  l.y  hor  ohihlrou  to  roturn 
thanks  to  00.1.  Now  all  this  mittlit  ho  vory  iKuorant  re- 
ligion to  an  Aniorioan  I'rot.'stant.  hut  to  m.'  it  was  true 
religion,  an.l,  what  was  nioro.un  example  of  sinocro  faith. 
She  trusted  that  (lod  would  supply  what  she  wanted,  she 
knew  that  he  had  said  ahout  his  house  heinK  the  house  of 
praver  an.l  she  eauu'  to  that  house  in  faith  to  ask  him 
for' help  in  her  troubles;  an.l  when  she  .sot  what  she 
wanted  she  evidently  believed  that  her  prayer  ha.l  been 
heard,  and  therefore  did  not  thank  me,  whom  she  con- 
sidered merely  the  instrument,  but  God  who  had  sent 

My  companion  and  guide  from  the  town  of  .losus 
Maria  was  a  quiet,  honest  representative  of  the  Mexi.nn 
half-breeds  to  be  met  with  in  almost  every  vili..„o  ol  tins 

peninsula.  ,  , 

"Tell  me,  Ignacio,"  I  said  to  him  in  a  solemn  tone,  late 
in  the  evening  when  we  were  coming  out  of  an  ugly  ra- 
vine, "tell  me  of  this  La  Llorona  wlu  haunts  the  moun- 
tain paths  and  the  lonely  roads  leading  to  the  townsi* 
i.  she  worse  than  the  Vacn  de  Lumhre,  the  gleaming  cow, 
that  at  midnight  suddenly  appears  on  the  Plaza  del  Ig- 
lP«i:i  and  after  a  moment's  pause  bounds  f..rward,  and 
with  streams  of  fire  and  flame  flowing  from  hor  eyes  and 
nostrils,  rushes  like  a  blazing  whirlwind    through   the 

village."  , 

"Ah  senor,  she  is  worse,  indeed  she  is  worse  than 
the  fiery  cow,  for  it  is  known  to  everybody  that  while  the 
vaca  is"  terrible  to  look  at,  and  on  a  dark  night  it  is  aw- 
ful  she  never  does  harm  to  any  one.    The  little  children, 


BV  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


in 


too,  arc  all  in  Iwd  and  asleep,  when  the  Vhivi  .!<•  I.iiiiiliio 
appeurx,  ami  it  is  only  us  gruHn  pooph.  that  >i .•  h.'i-  iiiiil 
that  not  often.    But  the  weepiuK  woman  imlee.l  is  hariii- 
ful;  it  is  well,  senor,  that  we  all  know  her  when  >ii..  a))- 
IK'Rfs,  and  we  are  so  afraid  of  her  that  no  nne  will  .^ay 
yes  or  no  to  her  when  she  speaks,  and  It  is  well.     .Many 
queer  things  and  ninny  evil  spirits,  it  i.s  known  to  us  all, 
are  around  nt  night  and  they  are  angry,  when  on  dark 
nights  there  ia  thunder  and  rain  and  lightning,  hut  the 
■\yailing  Woman  is  the  worst  of  all  of  them.    Sometimes, 
sir,  sliL  is  out  of  her  head    and    is    running,    her   hair 
streaming  after  her  and  she  is  tossing  her  liamls  almve 
her  head  and  shrieking  the  names  of  her  lost  <liildren 
Hita  and  Anita.    Hut  when  you  meet  her  some  other  time 
she  looks  like  an  honest  woman,  only  different,  for  her 
dress  is  white  and  the  rehoso  with  which  she  covers  her 
head  is  white,  too.    Indeed,  anybody  might  speak  back 
to  her  then  and  offer  to  I.elp  her  to  find  her  children,  liut 
whoever  does  speak  to  her  drops  dead.  Yes,  indeed,  sir, 
only  one  man,  Diego  Boula,  who  years  afterward  died  in 
Ms  bed,  was  the  only  one  who  ever  answered  her  and 
lived.    Diego,  you  must  know,  was  a  loeo,  a  fool,  and  ho 
met  her  one  night  when  he  was  crossing  the  I'lazuela 
San  Pablo.    She  asked  him  what  he  did  with  Kita  and 
Anita.    And  he  looked  stupid  at  her  and  said  he  wanted 
something  to  eat,  for  he  was  always  hungrv,  this  Diego. 
Then  she  took  a  good  look  at  him  and  then  threw  back 
her  white  reboso  and  Diego  saw  a  wormv,  grinning  skull, 
and  blue  little  balls  of  fire  for  eyes.    Then  she  brought 
her  skull  near  to  his  face  and  opened  her  flesh  less  jaws 
and  blew  into  Diego's  face  a  breath  so  icy  cold  that  he 
dropped  down  like  a  dead  man.    But,  senor.  a  foci 's  luck 
saved  him  and  when  he  was  found  in  the  m<iraini?,  he 


112 


BY  PATH  AHD  TRAIL. 


was  recovering.  It  is  said  that  this  ice  cold  breath  of 
hers,  freezes  into  death  who  ever  feels  it.  Then  afler 
the  person  falls  dead,  she  rushes  onward  again,  shriek- 
ing for  her  lost  ones,  but  the  one  who  speaks  to  her  is 
found  the  next  morning  dead,  and  on  his  face  and  in  his 
wide  open  eves  there  is  a  look  of  awful  horror. 

Did  I  ever  meet  her!  God  forbid,  but  I  heard  her 
shrieks  and  mailings  and  the  patter  of  her  feet  as  she 
ran,  on  the  cobblestones  of  the  Calle  de  San  Ksteban. 

As  we  drew  near  to  the  inland  village  where  I  in- 
tended to  put  up  for  the  night  the  country  bore  all  the 
appearance  of  having  lately  been  swept  by  a  tornado  ot 
^nd  and  rain.    A  swirling  mass  of  water  must  have 
rioted  over  the  lowlands,  for  rocks,  trees  and  bowlders 
lay  everj-where  in  confusion  and  encumbered  the  roads. 
Many  of  the  fruit  trees  were  uprooted,  houses  unroofed 
and  outbuildings  dismantled.  Sure  enough  when  we  en- 
tered the  town  it  bore  all  the  marks  of  cyclonic  wrath. 
With  difficulty  we    obtained   accommodations   for   the 
night.   When  I  strolled  out  early  next  mormng  to  take  a 
look  at  the  town  and  the  damage  done  by  the  ^to™' tl^* 
entire  population  apparently,  men,  women  and  children 
were  gathered  around  their  church  which  had  been  blown 
down  bv  the  cyclone.    Some  were  chipping  stones,  some 
carrvin'g  lime,  some  mixing  mortar,  some  pulling  down 
the  shaken  walls,  some  splitting  shingles  for  the  roof, 
some  strengthening  the  sprung  beams.    Everv-body  was 
busy  about  the  church  and,  seemingly,  not  one  was  en- 
gaged about  any  of  the  houses.    A  sudden  shower  drove 
me  into  a  protected  part  of  the  building  for  shelter  and 
I  got  into  conversation  with  a  man  who  turned  out  to  be 
the  priest,  but  not  being  quite  as  good  a  bricklayer  as 
he  was  a  theologian,  he  was  then  serving  as  hodman  to 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


113 


his  own  clei  >,  or  sexfon,  U  e  mason  of  the  village.  Xot 
knowing  at  ho  timo  thai  1  was  addressing  the  cura  or 
parish  pries i.  -'  asked  b.m  how  all  these  people  were 
paid. 

"Paid?"  said  the  reverend  hodman,  "why,  they  al' 
belong  to  this  parish." 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  "but  how  are  they  paid?— I  mean," 
continued  I,  hesitating  and  turning  over  in  my  mind 
what  was  Spanish  for  church  rates  or  dues,  '•how  do  you 
raise  the  money  to  pay  all  these  people  their  day's 
wages  f ' ' 

The  hodcarrier  laughed.  "Why,"  he  spoke  back,  and 
I  now  from  his  face  and  accent  began  to  suspect  he  was 
somebody,  "why,  you  do  not  pay  people  for  doing  their 
own  work.  It  is  the  house  of  God,  their  own  church 
which  they  are  repairing.  It  is  mine,  it's  theirs,  it  is  their 
children's.  Until  the  church  is  ready  we  have  no  place  to 
assemble  to  pray  to  God  and  publicly  to  offer  np  to  him 
the  holy  sacrifice.  There  will  be  no  work  done  by  us  till 
we  have  repaired  God's  temple,  our  own  church."  Who 
was  it  who  wrote :  "  0,  f or  the  touch  of  a  vanished  hand, 
and  the  sound  of  the  voice  that  is  still."  And  0  for  the 
simple  piety  and  child-like  faith  of  the  days  of  old.  In 
the  presence  of  this  example  of  rugged  faith  and  zeal 
for  the  house  of  God  on  the  part  of  this  priest  and  his 
flock  I  called  back  to  my  mind  the  ages  of  faith  and  the 
sublime  heroism  and  devotion  of  the  early  Christians. 
Beyond  a  doubt  the  church  was  theirs.  Not  a  day  did 
these  simple  people  go  to  their  work  till  they  had  assisted 
at  the  mass  offered  up  by  the  priest  who  was  now,  as  a 
hodman,  helping  in  the  rebuilding  of  their  temple.  Not  a 
time  did  any  of  them  start  out  on  a  long  .ioumey  without 
first  receiving  holy  communion  from  the  hands  of  this 


114 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


man  of  God.  Yes,  and  many  a  time,  too,  when  sickness 
entered  the  home  or  when  trouble  came  to  some  one  of 
the  family,  might  you  see  an  anxious  wife  or  trembling 
mother  kneeling  before  the  tabernacle,  who  had  stolen 
away  from  the  noise  and  distractions  of  home,  and  had 
come  unto  the  altar  of  God  to  pray  for  herself  and  her 
loved  ones.  To  these  honest  souls  their  church  was  as 
necessarj'  as  their  sleeping  rooms  or  their  kitchens  and 
was  used  as  much.  When  it  was  blown  down  they  felt 
the  want  of  it  as  much  as  they  did  that  of  their  own 
houses.  The  church  was  always  open  and  they  came  and 
went  when  and  as  often  as  they  liked.  Surely  it  was 
their  church  and  they  made  good  use  of  it. 

I  remember  well  the  day  I  came  down  from  the  Sier- 
etta  mountains  and  was  passing  on  foot  through  the  little 
city  of  Aguas  Colorauas,  the  church  of  which  was  well 
worth  seeing.  I  had  my  camera  and  field  glasses  hang- 
ing from  my  shoulders,  some  few  samples  in  a  canvas 
bag,  was  wearing  a  suit  of  rough  khaki  and  was  not  alto- 
gether the  figure  for  the  inside  of  a  church. 
"What  shall  1  do  with  these  things?"  I  said  to  my 

guide. 

"Put  them  down  here  on  the  church  steps,"  said  he. 
Now  these  church  steps  projected  into  the  market 
place,  which  at  that  time  was  full  of  all  sorts  of  rough- 
looking  people.  I  laughed  and  said,  'T  had  much  rather 
not  put  such  a  temptation  in  the  way  of  Mexican  hon- 
esty." 

"Well,"  answered  my  guide,  "there  is  no  doubt  that 
the  people  of  Aguas  Coloradas  are  the  greatest  rogues 
unhung"  (he  belonged  himself  to  a  neighboring  parish, 
and  like  all  members  of  little  communities  was  narrow 
enough  to  be  jealous    of   his   neighbor's   prosperity), 


1  m 


BV  PATU   AND  TRAIL. 


115 


"your  excellency  is  perfectly  right,  they  are  the  great- 
est rogues  unhung.  But  they  are  not  so"  bad  as  to  steal 
from  God."  I  put  my  things  on  the  steps  and  after  the 
lapse  of  an  hour  I  found  them,  and  along  with  them  some 
eight  or  ten  baskets  of  fruit  and  vegetables,  which  the 
market  people  had  left  there  while  they  went  in  to  say 
their  prayers,  all  of  which  though  looking  very  tempting, 
though  entirely  unguarded,  except  by  the  unseen  pres- 
ence of  God,  were  as  safe  as  if  they  had  been  under  lock 
and  key.  Is  there  a  church  in  any  city  of  America  whose 
sanctity  would  protect  day  and  night  articles  left  ex- 
posed before  its  door?    If  not,  why  not.' 

WOXDEBFUL   CRUCIFIX. 

Very  much  to  my  surprise  I  discovered  in  the  sacristy 
of  the  (piaint  little  church  of  this  primitive  village  a  du- 
plicate of  .Julian  Garces'  famous  copy  on  glass  of  "The 
Dead  t'hrist."  Garces  painting  from  the  original  hangs 
in  the  baptistry  of  an  ancient  church  on  the  Calle  San 
Pablo,  Mexico  City,  and  is  never  exhibited  to  visitors 
save  on  request.  It  is  a  wonderful  painting  on  ghss, 
thrilling  in  its  awful  realism  and  impossible,  once  seen, 
ever  to  be  forgotten. 

It  was  copied  many  years  ago  by  the  Dominican 
painter,  Julian  Garces,  from  the  original  painting  on 
wood,  carried  to  Spain,  when  the  religious  orders  were 
suppressed  by  the  Mexican  government  in  18:29.  This 
wonderful  painting  on  wood  is  now  preserved  in  the  con- 
vent of  the  discalced  Order  of  St.  Francis,  Bilboa,  Spain. 
It  is  known  as  the  crucifix  of  the  devil,  and  intimately 
associated  with  it  is  a  curious  and  touching  legend. 

Early  in  the  seventeenth  century  Mexico  City  was  the 
Paris  of  the  Latin-American  world.    It  possessed  great 


m 


llr 


*   4 


116 


BY  PATH  ASD  TBAIL. 


!    t 


n  , 


wealth  for  the  mines  of  Mexico  were  literally  pouring 
r„t  suUr    Its  reputation  for  gaiety,  for  the  beauty  and 
vS  of  its  senoritas,  for  its  variety  of  amusements 
Td  fo    the  splendor  of  its  climate,  attracted  to  its  hos- 
pHable  clubs'many  of  the  rollicking  and  advent..ou 
youth  of  Spain.    Among  them  was  a  young  man  of  noWe 
lirth,  who  at  once  flung  himself  into  the  -'"^  P-    °* 
dissipation  that  eddied  in  the  flowing  "--..^'Jo- 
able  amusements.    In  a  few  years  ^e  -»  '^d  >''\-P''J" 
■„  n  fnst  life  and  i'.  wild   debauchery.     Ltteriy 
Tn  d Tn  P0?U^t  and  in  ct.it,  he  determined  to  end  it  aU 
n  suTcide     He  was  returning  from  the  Spanish  casino 
Tfter  losing  heavily  at   a  game   of   cUance,   wl.n   the 
thought  of  self-destruction  possessed  h  m.    He  was  re 
olvfng  in  his  mind  the  easiest  way  leading  from  earth-- 
owhfre-"To  helU"  he  muttered.    Then   he   entered 
™„n  another  line  of  thought.    He  had  read  and  heard  of 
Tn  in  desperate  circumstances  asking   and   receivmg 
help  from  the  devil.  himself 

..PU  be  damned  anyhow,"  he  argued  ^^'1^  l""^^;^'' 
"and  I  may  as  well  have  a  few  more  years  on  earth  be- 
fore going  down  into  the  pit."  Much  to  l'-/"yP"^«' 
when  he  entered  his  chambers  he  found  taem  lighted  up 
i  a  Wr  awaiting  him.  The  man  who  rose  to  greet 
Wm  was  in  simple  citizen's  dress,  and  uncommon  y  like 
T.  of  hose  curb  brokers  who  are  so  numerous  in  our 
.    o^day.    "I  understand,  sir,"  said  the  stranger,  "that 

you  wish  my  services." 

"Who  are  yout"  asked  the  Spaniard. 

.'I  am  the  partv  who,  many  hundreds  of  years  ago 
said  to'he  founde'r  of  your  religion:  "AU  these  will  I 
give  thee,  if,  falling  down,  thou  wilt  adore  me. 

"The  Devilt" 


!' 


By  PATH  AND  THAII,. 


117 


"The  same,  at  your  service." 

A  bargain  was  (luickly  made.  In  e.xehange  for  his  soul 
by  a  document  to  be  duly  signed  and  delivered,  the  prodi- 
gal was  to  receive  more  money  than  was  uecessarv  to  re- 
establish his  fortune;  and  to  enjoy  until  the  dissolution 
of  us  natural  body,  all  that  he  desired,  all  that  earth 
could  offer  him;  sensual  deMght,  influence,  a  distin- 
guished career  in  society,  the  intoxication  of  power  in 
short  all  tliat  gold  could  purchase  and  secure.  However 
the  Spanird  was  no  fool,  and  before  he  attached  his  sig- 
nature to  the  fatal  contract,  he  wished  to  be  satisfied 
that  he  was  face  to  face  with  the  Master  of  Hell,  the 
Eebel  Lucifer.  "Before  I  sign  this  parchment,  mav  I 
ask  you  a  few  questions?" 
"Certainly,"  replied  Satan. 

wil'hTr"'  fZ'  •'■""/"  ^^""^"'  ^""^  '""S  have  you  dealt 
with  the  children  of  Adam  ? " 

"Since  that  day  I  laughed  at  God,  when  in  the  Garden 
ot  Jiden,  I  seduced  Eve." 

JJ!\'v/7r'"""l  '"'^''  ■"'* '"  ""^  ^^"'°g  y^^^'  of  His 

mortal  lite  Him  whom  men  style  Christ?" 

defeats  He  inflicted  on  my  friends  and  for  the  insults  He 
offered  to  me  I  gave  Him  blow  for  blow  " 

"Were  you  present  when  He  hung  on  the  Cross  of  Cal- 
vary between  a  murderer  and  a  thief,  and  did  you  wit- 
nes,s  Ins  awful  agony  and  ignominious  death?" 

I  was  of  all  the  crowd  that  mocked  Him  and  laughed 
at  Him  when  He  hung  on  the  wood,  the  most  pleased  wit- 
ness  Why,  I  inspired  the  fools  who  nailed  Him  to  the 
wood^  It  was  I  who  tempted  Judas,  the  Iscariot,  to  be- 
tray Hun;  I  inspired  the  Hebrew  priests  to  insult  Him 
another  to  sp,t  upon  Him,  and  my  friend  Pilate,  who  now 
occupies  a  conspicuous  place  in  my  kingdom,  to  scourge 


118 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


H 
I 


Him.  and  m.  Him  to  tUe  ^^^^^^^Z^ 
fool,  would  not  l>«^'^^^,lPPf  „^7' P;,cepter  and  a  scar- 

-!— ^i^'^s^'r-dr.'^s 
s:.r-?^SMV=t-^^^^^^^^^^ 

.could  yo.  ^^^^iiz';^::z:"LtaU''^y 

f/Te'^d     'AU  "  on-mmated ,•  and  when  dark- 
'ut^^faui  on  calvary  and  Jeru.alemr- 

:^^, :"  I  beseech  you,  before  I  J«n_  our  com- 

of  tenderness,  of  '"^"'tPf™"^  .„eply  graven  in  the 
boundless  e-P--^^^^"  ^r  ng  t^^^^  "'  -^- 
flesh,  were  Unes  "^/jf"^;"  TCIpaniard,  as  he  ga^ed 
row  and  sustamed  agony  ^j^^  ^  ^  ;  ^..^bled  as 
upon  the  "Santo  Bostro,'  *!>«  ^'J?";;^;^  The  eyes  of 
trembles  the  man  to  whom  the  de^d  speak.  ^^^^  J^  ^^_ 

the  Holy  F^'^^^-'f  «^;t t  vet  dl^i,  but  whose  body  lay 
fore  a  Christ  ^^t^'.'^tl  '  d  was ')ouring  from  a  gash 
U.P,  a"d/-YSi*g  Srouids  in'the  head  and 
in  the  side  and  tncklmg  irom  ^  ^^j, 

^^"'^•v'"rafhto?rd^^t-ur^^ 

SrS    Tt  SI  figure'were  so  heart-rending 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


119 


in  their  terrible  realism,  the  look  of  the  agonized  Ciuei- 
fied  so  appealing  and  so  full  of  love  that  tears  of  sym- 
pathy welled  from  the  eyes  of  the  libertine.  Then  before 
and  hiding  the  face  of  the  Christ,  he  saw  the  face  of  his 
mother,  and  the  eyes  that  looked  their  last  upon  him  when 
she  lay  upon  her  bed  of  death  in  their  home  in  .Madrid 
Bushmg  past  his  tempter,  the  young  Castilian  flung  him- 
self at  the  feet  of  the  Christ  and  cried  aloud:  "Jesus, 
son  of  David,  have  mercy  on  me."  When,  sobbing  and 
broken-hearted,  he  rose  erect  he  was  alone  with  the  dead 
Christ  and  the  unsigned  compact. 

JULIAN  GARCES'  COPY. 

In  Garces'  painting  on  glass,  the  dying  Christ  stands 
out  m  full  relief  with  no  perspective.    Behind  the  cross 
all  is  darkness  save  alone  a  thread  of  lightning,  snake- 
like and  forked.    Over  Calvary  the  sky  is  lurid  and  of  a 
dull  red,  whoc»  Tiery  hue  in  portentous,  lugubrious  and 
awe-inspiring.    The  body  of  the  dying  Savior,  the  little 
board  above  the  cross,  with  its  prophetic  inscription: 
Jesus  of  Nazareth,  King  of  the  Jews;"  and  parts  of  the 
cross  which  the  Divine  Body  did  not  cover,  alone  occupy 
space.    Beyond  and  around  them  nothing,  onlv  the  black- 
ness of  ebon  darkness.    Save  the  ribbon   of"  snake-like 
hghtnmg  coming  out  of  and  piercing  the  impenetrable 
darkness,  there  is  nothing;  not  a  ray  of  light  anywhere 
no  mark  of  a  horizon,  naught  but  the  body  of  the  Man- 
God,  the  gibbet  and— night,  moonless  and  starless.    But 
the  isolation  of  the  Figure  on  the  lone  Cross,  the  pitiable 
solitude  encompassing  the  Crucified,  the  blood  oozing 
from  the  frayed  wound  and  trickling  down  the  pallid 
flesh,  and  the  Divine  Face  from  which  expression,  anima- 
tion and  life  itself  are  lingeringly  departing,  appeal  to 


120 


BV  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


the  heart  and  the  imagination,  and  we  are  overwhelmed 

F  with  pity  and  sympathy. 

!  If  we  are  familiar  with  the  Holy  Scriptures  we  hear 

I  the  patnetic  cry  of  Isais:    "There  i.  no  beauty  in  Him 

now,  nor  comeliness    '     *     despised,  a  man 

of  sorrows.     •     *     *     His  look  was  as  it  were  hidden 

I  ^'"^le'was  led  as  a  sheep  to  the  slaughter  and  He  did 

i  not  open  His  mouth."                                                 „i,„„Wa 

\  "I  have  given  my  body  to  the  scourgers,  and  m>  cheeks 

i  to  the  strikers ;  I  have  not  turned  away  my  face  from 

\  them  that  rebuked  me,  and  spat  upon  me."    A\ e  cal  up 

f  thHropbetic  words  of  the  inspired  writer  of  the  Psalms. 

I  ''iZ  poured  out  like  water:  they  have  dug  my  hands 

"""-JreV gave  me  gall  for  my  food,  and  in  my  tiurst  they 
gave  me' vinegar  to  drink:  My  God,  My  God,  bast  thou 
forsaken  me!"  We  listen  to  Jeremias  speaking  with  the 
voice  of  the  Victim  of  Divine  Love  sacrificed  before  our 
very  eyes:  "My  tabernacle  is  laid  waste,  all  my  cords 
Ire  brLn;  my  children  have  abandoned  me,  and  they 
"e  not:  th^re  is  none  to  stretch  forth  my  tent  any  more: 

'  WH!fweTand  with  eyes  fastened  on  the  solitary  and 
bleeding  Figure,  we  see  Him  die.  He  is  dead!  From  His 
handHrom  Hi^  head  fallen  away  from  the  dead  muscles 
and  resting  on  the  naked  breast,  from  the  gaping  wound 
madlby  the  soldier's  lance,  the  blood  no  longer  flows^ 
?he  body  is  bloodless,  but  between  the  muscles,  through 
the  delicate  and  transparent  skin,  one  may  count  the 
bones  of  the  Crucified,  one  might  number  the  pulsations 
of  the  heart  before  it  ceased  to  beat. 


I     ( 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  PBADERA  A.ND  GUASO  BEDS. 

From  my  first  chapter  on  Lower  California  I  mar 
have  left  the  mipression  on  the  minds  of  mv  readers 
that  the  ent.rc  peninsula  is  a  waste  of  desolation  or  thst 
.m  anathema  of  sterility  had  withered  the  whole  country 
This  would  not  l>e  the  truth.    As  ^o  near  the  southwest- 
ern coast  the  land  struggles  to  shed  more  vegetation  and 
we  begm  to  experience  a  mild,  soft  and  almost  langurous 
air_    The  palo  verde,  the  mesquite,  the  giant  sahuaros 
and  many  varieties  of  the  cacti  gradually  appear.  Along 
the  eastern  coast  the  land  is   yet   more   covered    with 
mesquite  trees,  and  malma  and  bunch  grass  above  which 
looms  the  columnar  pithahaya.  The  mesas  or  table  lands 
of  sand  have  here  and  there  groo  and  gramma  grasses, 
i  hen,  as  we  cfimb  the  mountains  we  meet  scrub  oak  and 
lull  jump,-    till  at  an  elevation  of  6,000  feet  we  eater 
the  pine  lands.    Owing  to  the  peculiarity  of  the  river 
beds  winch  run  through  loose  quarternary  deposits  the 
water  which  flows  down  the  mountains  during  the  rainy 
seasons  disappears  in  the  porous  earth,  seeks    under- 
ground channels,  and  after  following  its  subterranean 
course  for  many  miles,  is  lost  entirely  or  comes  again 
to  the  surface  where  the  older  formation  rises  or  is 
crossed  by  a  dyke  forming  a  natural  dam 

By  reason  of  the  clearness  of  the  atmosphere  and  the 
absence  of  all  foreign  substances  in  the  air  distances  are 
deceptive  and  appearances  delusive.  Small  objects,  such 
as  (he  outlines  of  an  isolated  mound,  the  face  of  a  pro- 
jecting rock  or  a  browsing  steer  loom  large  and  stand 


>     > 


1*2 


UY  PATH  AND  IBAIL. 


out  Sharp  nn<l  well  doflned.     At  a  distance  of  fifteen 
miles  foothills  seen,  but  one  or  two  m.les  off.    i  rom  the 
top  of  Para  hill,  fifty  ...iles  inland,  I  have  "^"th?  Pano- 
rama  of  the  shores  and  bay,  the  town  of  La  I'"^-  «>«  1>  'U 
and  vallovs,  all  clearly  outlined.    The  csearptnent  of  the 
San  Juan  .nountains,  100  mies  to  the  north  o    the  hdl 
on  which  I  was  standing,  seemed  but  twenty  m.les  away, 
an,l  fr.,>u  the  highest  peak  of  the  Cerita  "^'"'K'^""  "  ^^^- 
elear  <lav,  thev  tell  me,  a  circular  panorama  3.)0  miles 
in  diameter,  inclosinfi  the  most  varied  ^'^^/.f  t^^/; 
ing  mountains,  sunken  deserts  of  yellow,  *'l""'."g;«° t 
patches  of  cultivated  land  and  rolling  ocean,  is  plamly 
vu'bl       Tl.:     diaphanous  conduion  of  the  atmosphere 
.so  decep..e  that  a  stranger  will  sometimes  begm  a 
walk  for  a  neighboring  hill,  thinking  it  only  a  few  miles 
off,  when  in  reality  it  is  twenty  miles  away. 

in  certain  stretches  of  this  wonderful  l»f  "'"™t;" 
air  of  widely  different   temperature,  and  hydrometric 
'aver    oTatmosphere  lying  one  over  the  other  produce 
an  electric  condition  like  what  we  are  told  occurs  on  the 
high  Peruvian  Andes.    Owing  to  extreme  dryness   the 
ground  is  a  very  poor  conductor,  so  that  the  -P-f  ^^- 
ance  of  electricity  in  the  air  corrodes  metallic  imple- 
"w s  0    objects  exposed  and  left  upon  the  ground  for 
any  length  of  time.    At  times  when  desert  storms  sweep 
ac  OSS  the  face  of  the  land  the   air   is   so   abundantly 
harged  with  electricity  that  the  hdr  of  the  head  w.1 
stand  out  like  that  of  a  boy  on  an  insulating  stool.    The 
Sn  horses-  tails  and  manes  become  "ke  thej,ns«^= 
on  a  brush,  but  seemingly  no  annoying  effects  follow. 
There  are  regions  of  this  extraordinary  land  where  rheu- 
la tsm  is  Xown.    Leather  articles,  books  and  goods 
which  mildew  in  other  coast  lands,  may  here  remam  ex- 


BV  I'ATH   AND  TRAIL. 


1:23 


po8cd  night  and  day  without  injury,  shnwiiig  tlic  liarm- 
le88  character  of  tlic  climate,  in  .striUnjf  nuitni^t  with 
that  of  tlie  .Madeira  and  Canary  Lshind  wlu-re  leather 
molds,  salt.s  deliquicc,  unprotected  metal  rnst.s,  Imtani- 
cal  specimens  spoil  and  musical  instrunieiits  cii!in<it  be 
kep.  in  tune.  Mulberry  trees  in  Italy  ai](l  .Southern 
France  rei|uire  constant  care  and  vif,'iliiiic<>.  but  here, 
once  planted,  they  demand  no  further  iiilcntii)n.  There 
are  here  stretches  of  land  where  in  the  dry,  hot  and  rari- 
fied  air  meats,  eggs,  fish  and  fowl  remain  luitulnted  for 
days. 

Back  of  the  ancient  and  historic  town  of  Loretto — 
with  which  I  will  deal  in  another  i)lace— there  is  a  valley 
of  contradiction,  full  of  fa.«cinntion  to  the  eye  to-day,  anil 
to-morrow  a  land  of  desolation  and  of  horror.  '  It  is 
called  "La  Pradera  Honda,"  the  deep  meadow,  from  its 
marvelous  wealth  and  coloring  of  vegetation  at  certain 
seasons  and  times. 

The  Pradera  reposes  between  two  menacing  ranges  of 
barren  mountains  wliich  yet  retain  the  ancient  marks 
left  by  the  waters  when  the  desert  was  an  inland  lake. 
When  I  saw  "La  Pradera"  a  few  days  ago  it  was  under 
a  shroud  of  sand,  and  of  ashes  that  the  angry  volcanoes 
of  the  mountains  had,  long  ago,  vomited  upon  it. 

Turning  to  my  Mexican  companion  and  extending  my 
hand  toward  the  Prada,  I  ask^d:  "Is  there  any  life 
there?"  "Si,  senor,"  he  answered,  "there  is  life  there, 
but  it  is  life  that  is  death  to  you  and  me.  You  see  these 
intermittent  and  miniature  forests  of  bisnoga  and  cienga 
cacti?  They  shade  and  protect  from  the  fierce  rays  of 
a  burning  sun  the  deadly  rattlesnake,  the  homed  snake 
that  strikes  to  kill,  the  kangaroo  rat,  the  tarantula,  the 


124 


DY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


■ 


chawalla,  the  white  Bcorpion,  tlic  arena  centiiwdo,  lizard* 
and  poiBonous  HpidcrH." 

Tlie  8un  beat  down  upon  the  deadly  silence,  upon  the 
dull  gray  floor  of  the  desert  where  the  Imnihed  blades  of 
the  yuira  bristled  stitT  in  the  hot,  sandy  waste.      But 
before  cominR  here  I  h.ul  hear.l  of  anoth-.r  and  more 
wonderful  life  than  tlie  reptile  e.xisteiii'e  dwelt  upon  by 
my  friend.    There  are  times  when  torrential  storms  of 
rain  rage  fiercelv  amouK  the  mountains  bordenuK  this 
nrid  land  or  a  driftiuR  cloud  loaded  with  water  strikes  a 
towerinR  peak.     When  these  thiniss  happen,  rivers    ot 
water  flow  madlv  down  the  furrows  worn  in  the  lace  ot 
the  great  hills,  and,  hitting  the    desert,    separate    into 
sheets  of  liquid  refreshment  which  give  life  and  beaut.v 
to  desolation  and  aridity.    They  come,  ,«nys  the  inspired 
writer,  bv  the  command  of  God.  "to  satisfy  the  desolate 
and  waste  ground  and  to  cause  the  seed  in  the  parched 
earth  to  spring  forth."    Then  the  ashen  white  waste  is 
all  aglow  with  myriad  blossoms,  and  the  desert  sands 
are  covered  with  a  most  beautiful  carpet  of  wonderful 
flowers  for  many  of  which  the  science  of  botany  has  no 

name.  „  „. 

Of  all  these  plants  that  bloom  in  this  vale  of  Hinom, 
perhaps,  the  most  pleasing  to  the  eye  are  the  flowers  of 
the  cacti,  and  the  rapidity  with  which  their  dry  ami  ap- 
parently dead  stalks  throw  out  beautiful  blossoms  after 
their  roots  are  watered,  is  one  of  the  marvels  of  the  des- 
ert The  cacti  of  La  Pradera  are  an  annual  manifesta- 
tion of  the  realism  of  death  and  resurrection  and,  as  the 
plants  come  into  fullest  bloom  in  early  spring,  this  desert 
•it  the  time  of  Easter  is  one  vast  circular  meadow  where 
the  rarest  and  most  beautiful  flowers  have  risen  from 
their  graves  as  if  to  glorify  the  resurrection  of  tlieir 


BV   I'ATH    AStl  TRAIL. 


125 


Lorfl  anJ  M««U.r  Tl...  i,.w..st  ,„,.!  ,„„.t  wo.ulorful 
flower  ot  tl».m  „ll  grows,  1  „,„  ,„|.,,  „„  „„  „„,,,  ,,,„,, 
mis«i,«,...„  ..„<.tus  wl.i,.|,.  for  ..|,.v..„  ,„onths  of  ih,.  v,.,„' 
u  o  a  I  outw«r.I  .sc-miuK,  .i.ud,  hut  when  il,  roots  ar« 
Y'--H  hloo.ns  «„|.  M.|.r,.,„H.v  .|,.|i..nt,.  ,„„|  ,v„xv  p.a. 
al».  Ihor..  IS  another  .nctus,  n  loiv  .rcepinK  l.h'.nt  of 
roun.  trunk  and  poi„t..,l  stou,,  repellent  as  a  M.ake.  ami 
Uglj  to  look  upon  which,  at  ahoiit  the  time  of  the  vernal 
e.,u,nox,  is  eovere,!  wth  l„i,e  pi„k  .lowers,  heautiful  as 
oreluls  am  IraK'rant  as  the  fairest  rose  in  inv  la.lv's 
garden.  Then  l,y  the  sides,  and  hetweon  the  Me.xiean 
agaves  and  the  white  pinnied  >  luraswitl,  treii,l,|i„B  -erri- 
ated  leaves,  are  .scattered  in  luxuriant  piodiKalitv  ..o- 
umbines,  phlo.ve.s,  verhenas  and  as  maiiv  as  twenU-  o, 

knowledge  of  liotuny  supplies  no  names  I  ..fortunately, 
for  the  pre.sent.  the  names  „f  „„,„,.  „,■  these  rare  speeles 
are  not  known  even  to  our  profe.ssional  hotauists.  „«d 
the  common  varieties  of  those  which  are  ,  lassified,  and 
found  in  other  parts  of  ralifornia  hear  no  s,„  I,  fnscinat- 
mg  and  gorgeous  array  of  flowers  as  those  indigenous  to 
•  16  "Pradera"  desert. 

The  Islamis  of  Ht.  Oeorge  olf  the  east  coast  of  O.e 
Pemnsula  of  Cal.lornia  are  a  singular  group  of  s.p.eezed 
or  lifted  rocks  on  which  the  dew  never  settles  and  where 
ram  never  falls  for  years.  These  are  the  famous  -.ook- 
erj-  islands  '  where,  for  uncounted  years,  enormous  num- 
bers of  birds  of  the  sea  and  of  the  land  have  b.iilt  tl.eif 
nests,  deposited  their  eggs  and  hatched  their  voung  By 
some  mysterious  law  o-'  instinet  and  .selection  the  birds, 
fron.  the  heg.nning.  alloted  small  islands  and  sections  on 
the  larger  islands  to  the  different  species  of  the  feather- 
ed race,  so  that  the  sea  birds,  like  the  frigate  i>elicans 


r 


^1 


126 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


A  i\,^  liltP  have  their  own  allotments 

ly  obscured  l>y  t"^^.  """""f  .  ,„!„  detachments,  reach 
They  fly  in  battaUons,  or  in  o™"^  ^^  ^  i^^^dred 
the  feeding  grounds  on  and  o-:  -t^^^^^^^^^^^^^     ,,„eh  of 

they  rise  aga^^- --J^  ^pprrtL Ueries  they 

^r:tb"i:::^^.e|.cans.shrijs^^ 
^---^S£a^^^^^ 

deposit,  saturated  w^th  a—^  -J  P^-I-^^^fl;  ^y 
called  guano  and,  ^1^««^^^,*."™„; '\,"ehted  to  the  sea 
Chinese  coolies,  loaded  "^^^^f^^^,^  ™*eYed  and  sold 
ports  of  Europe,  where  it  is  ^-^f  ^^^  "  ^^^ds.  On 

phosphates. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


ORiaiN   OP   THE   PIOUS   FUND. 

Felicien  Pascal,  the  French  publicist,  devotes  an  ar- 
ticle in  Le  Monde  Modern,  to  an  explanation  of  the  mis- 
sionary success  of  the  Society  of  Jesus,  the  mombers  of 
which  are  known  to  us  as  Jesuits.  It  is  rather  excep- 
tional for  a  French  freethinker  to  write  calmly  and  dis- 
passionately of  a  religious  association  whose  creed  and 
manner  of  life  are  in  direct  antithesis  to  his  own.  Much 
has  been  written  at  various  periods  in  their  history  of 
the  "secrets"  of  the  Jesuits;  but,  asserts  Mr.  Pascal, 
"the  great  secret  of  their  strength  is  their  sublime  disci- 
pline. To  this  discipline  the  Jesuits  have  always  owed 
their  marvelous  power  and  their  aceeptabilty  as  a  chosen 
body  of  Tiighly  trained  specialists  among  the  ruling 
classes  of  Europe  and  in  the  savage  wilds  of  Africa  and 
America." 

Mr.  Pascal  is  experimenting  with  a  social  and  histori- 
cal fact  and  is  disposed  to  deal  honestly  and  dispassion- 
ately with  its  origin.  Having  no  faith  in  the  super- 
natural, it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  the  French  sociol- 
ogist would  look  beyond  the  human  and  the  natural  for 
the  solution  of  a  great  problem.  Unquestionably  he  is 
right  as  far  as  he  goes  or  his  negations  will  permit  him 
to  go.  St.  Paul,  the  prototype  of  all  missionaries,  writ- 
ing to  the  Corinthians,  recounts  for  their  edification  his 
own  sufTerings  and  sorrows,  his  "perils  in  the  wilder- 
ness, in  labor  and  painfulness,  in  watchings  often,  in 
hunger  and  thirst,  in  many  fastings,  in  cold  and  naked- 
ness."   Further  on,  this  extraordinary  man,  "called  to 


128 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


be  an  apostle  out  of  due  time,"  tells  us  why,  according 
to  men  of  the  world,  he  was  a  fool.    "I  take  pleasure  m 
my  infirmities,  in  reproaches,  in  necessities,  in  persecu- 
tion in  distresses-for  Christ's  sake."    On  another  oc- 
casion when  writing  to  the  Christians  at  Home,  he  says 
that  to  men  of  the  type  of  Mr.  Pascal,  the  heroism  of 
martyrs,  confessors  and  missionaries,    is    foolishness; 
that  It  is  impossihle  for  the  natural  or  worldly  man  to 
understand  the  things  that  are  of  the  kingdom  of  God^ 
And  now,  let  me  record  for  the  edification  of  my  read- 
ers the  deeds  of  fraternal  love  and  self-denial  wrought 
among  the  savage  tribes  of  this  unhospitable  land  centu- 
ries ago  by  men  whose  heroism  and  success,  Mr.  Pascal 
and  men  like  him  try  to  explain  by  human  disciplme  and 
human  organization.    In  an  earlier  chapter  I  dwelt  pass- 
ingly on  the  attempt  of  the  Spaniard  Otondo  to  establish 
a  settlement  on  the  shores  of  the  Bay  of  La  Paz.    For 
eighteen  months  the  Spanish  colonists  tilled  and  coaxed 
a  sandy  soil  and  thev  reaped  cactus,  sage  brush  and  dis- 
appointment.    During  these  eighteen   months   not   one 
drop  of  rain  fell  upon  the  soil,  now  dry  and  parched  as 
the  tongue  of  Dives.    Otondo,  in  disgust,  broke  up  the 
settlement,  called  off  his  men  and  sailed  away  for  Man- 

zanillo.  ,  -.    m,  i 

With  Otondo's  colonists,  when  they  left  Lhalca, 
Sinoloa,  went  three  Jesuit  priests,  one  as  cartographist 
to  the  expedition,  and  the  two  others  as  missionaries  to 
t'le  natives.  They  now  pleaded  to  be  permitted  to  re- 
main with  the  tribes,  for  already  they  were  mastermg 
the  language  and  dialects  and  had  under  instruction 
nearlv  four  hundred  adults  and  children.  Father  Copart 
had  alreadv  begun  the  composition  of  a  "doctrina"  or 
short  catechism  in  the  native  dialects.    He  experienced 


BY  PATH  AND  IBAIL. 


129 


much  trouble,  he  tells  us  in  a  letter  written  to  a  clerical 
friend,  in  finding  words  and  idioms  to  explain  the  doc- 
trines of  Christianity,  but  with  the  heli)  of  the  chi.dreu 
he  got  on  fairly  well.  The  fathers  asked  to  be  left  with 
the  tribes,  but  Otondo  declared  that  he  could  not  take 
upon  himself  the  responsibility  of  leaving  a  solitary 
iiuropeau  on  the  accursed  shore  and  insisted  on  the 
priests  returning  to  Mexico  with  him. 

Thus  ended  the  first  attempt  to  found  a  settlement 
la  Lower  California.  What  a  singular  fatalitv  fol- 
lowed in  the  wakes  of  nearly  all  the  first  settlements 
on  the  coasts  of  North  America,  italcigh's  planta- 
tion in  Virginia  was  abandoned  after  four  years  of  dis- 
appointment and  heart-breakings,  though  Grenville 
the  partner  of  Kaleigh,  said  the  land  was  "the  goodliest 
soil  under  the  cope  of  heaven."  The  first  settlement  in 
New  England  was  even  shorter  lived  and  Goswald  and 
Popham  brought  back  their  colonists  from  Maine,  as  did 
Otondo  from  California.  The  story  of  the  hardships  and 
sufferings  from  cold  and  .scurvy  of  the  first  French  set- 
tlers on  the  St.  Charles  is  paralleled  by  the  history  of 
Vizcaino's  voyage  and  landing  in  the  Bay  of  Monterey. 

Twenty  years  afterOtondo 's  failure  England  called  oil 
its  first  contingent  of  settlers  from  Tangiers.  La  Salle, 
the  explorer,  and  one  of  the  grandest  men  that  ever  trod 
the  American  continent,  was  shot  by  his  own  men  and 
his  dream  of  colonization  ended.  The  pioneer  Scotch 
colony  at  Darien  failed  absolutely,  as  did  Selkirk's  settle- 
ment in  the  Canadian  Northwest  one  hundred  years  ago. 

The  colonization  of  Lower  California,  such  as  it  was 
and  is,  was  finally  effected  mainly  through  the  persistent 
efforts  and  untiring  zeal  of  two  Jesuit  priests,  Eusebio 
Kino  and  Gian-Maria  Salvatierra.    Some  day  the  lives 


u 


130 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


^ 


Of  these  heroic  and  saintly  men  wUI  "«  -^t«»  ^^^^J^^, 
rive  added  dignity  and  importance  to  the  history 
S^ristian  miss^ns  on  the  continent  of  A~. 

(Inoe  havine  begun  the  conversion  of  a  savage  or  Dar 
Once  having     g  ^.sionaries  never  voluntarily 

barous  people,  «^«  •'«^'";         ^„  ^^    ^nd  is  not  now,  a 

advances  or  with  bloody  hands  welcomed  them  to  hospit 
at  e  graves  The  Society  of  Jesus  is  not  by  "ny  mean  , 
tefreatest  missionary  body  to   wh  ch   the    Cfholic 

that    he  Society  of  Jesus  is  on  a  plane  of   successful 
itJ  wUh  aov  organization  established  since  apos- 

order  among  English  speaking  races  is,  like  an  unpleas- 
ant odor,  gradually  «^aP°«f°f;_    ,  „     .  jj,,  j^uure  of 
After  reading  Otondo's  "Report     ot  tne  lauu 

,^ceroy  to  Mexico  advised  the  home  government  to  have 

fesent^tiS^d  Lower  California  was  abandoned  to  its 
sag^^„:l,  scorpions,  tarantulas  and  naked  savages. 


iflA^M 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


131 


Despairing  of  obtaining  any  help  or  even  encourage- 
ment from  the  Snanish  or  Mexican  officials,  FatherSalva- 
tierra  now  appealed  to  the  zeal  and  Christian  charity  of 
the  Spainards  in  Mexico  to  assist  him  in  his  effort  to  re- 
open the  mission  to  the  Digger  Indians.  Father  Eusibio 
Kino,  who  was  with  the  Otondo  expedition,  and  Father 
Juan  Ugarte  flung  themselves  into  the  good  work  and 
with  speech  and  pen  pleaded  for  the  California  tribes. 
It  was  impossible  to  resist  the  call  of  these  men;  the 
piety  of  their  daily  lives,  the  sincerity  of  their  motives, 
their  scholarship,  eloquence  and  heroism  awoke  enthu- 
siasm and  touched  generous,  though  until  now,  indiffer- 
ent hearts.  Subscriptions  began  to  move.  From  far 
away  Queretaro,  Padre  Cabellero,  a  priest  who  inherited 
parental  wealth,  sent  $10,000.  The  "Congregation  of 
Our  Lady  of  Sorrows,"  a  confraternity  of  holy  women, 
promised  a  yearly  sum  of  $500:  Count  de  Miravalles 
subscribed  $1,000;  Pedro  Sierrepe  of  Acapulco  gave  the 
fathers  a  lancha  or  long  boat  and  offered  the  loan  of  his 
ship  for  a  transport,  and  from  Mexico  City  and  towns  in 
the  vice  royal  provinces  came  liberal  contributions. 

These  generous  donations  Father  Salvatierra  formed 
into  a  fund,  or,  as  we  would  say  to-day,  capitalized  for 
the  evangelization  of  the  California  Indians  and  the  sup- 
port of  the  California  missions.  Thus  began  the  famous 
"Fondo  Piadoso  de  California,"  of  which  we  have  heard 
so  much  and  which  involved  in  its  distribution  and  par- 
tial settlement  two  religious  orders  and  three  civilized 
nations,  and  for  which,  to  quiet  a  claim  against  it,  the 
government  of  the  United  States  lately  paid  the  arch- 
bishop of  San  Francisco  three  bundled  and  eighty-five 
thoQsand  dollar.s. 

On  the  1.3th  of  July,  1G97,  the  ship  of  Pedro  Sierrepe 


132 


BY  PATH  AUD  laUL. 


loaded  with  supplies  for  the  infaut  mission  sailed  out  of 
the  harbor  of  Aeapulco,  on  the  Pacific  coast,  and  pass- 
ing  through  the  straits  of  Magellan,  finally,  after  two 
months  of  ocean  travel,  rounded  Cape  San  L^^^s  and 
anchored  in  the  Yaqui  bay.  Gulf  of  Cortes,  now  the  Gulf 
of  California.  Father  Salvatierra,  who  had  come  over- 
land to  Sonora,  was,  with  the  illustrious  Kino,  pvmg  a 
mission  to  the  Yaquis  when  he  was  informed  ot  the  ar- 
rival of  the  ship.  Kino  made  preparations  to  accom- 
pany him  to  Lower  California  when  the  Governor  of 
Sonora  intervened.  *  n  :„ 

The  provinces  of  Sinoloa  and  Sonora  were  at  tlus 
particular  time  threatened  with  an  Indian  uprising,  the 
governor  refused  to  let   Kino    leave   him,    contending 
that  the  influence  of  the  priest  in  controlling  the  rest- 
less Yaquis  and  Mayos  was   greater    than   the    pres- 
ence of    a  thousand   soldiers.     So    Salvatierra    sailed 
alone  out  of  the  Yaqul  bay  and  in  October  landed  m 
Lower  California,  twenty  miles  north  of  the  site  chosen 
by  Otondo  for  his  unfortunate  colony.    Like  that  heroic 
Canadian  missionary,  Breboeuf,  Salvatierra,  when  he 
landed,  knelt  upon  the  beach  and  placing  the  country 
under  the  protection  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  evoked  the 
help  of  God  in  the  work  he  was  abojit  to  undertake.  Then 
rising  he  exclaimed  aloud,  "Mc  requiescam,    quomam 
eleaieam"-!  will  remain  here,  for  I  myself  have  cho- 
sen it.    Af  ler  the  landing  of  the  baggage,  the  provisions 
aBd  a  few  domestic  animals  the  party  rested  for  the 

^Here  is  the  roster  of  the  first  settlement  and  prac- 
tically the  first  Christian  mission  which  led  to  the  civiti- 
xation  of  the  tribes  and  the  exploration  of  all  California. 
A  Portuguese  pick  and  shovel  man  called  Lorenzo,  three 
Christianized  Mexican  Indians,  a  Peruvian  mulatto,  a 


BY  PATH   AM)  TSAIL. 


133 


leZtT  "  '™'?  ^^-x'-'^i"™.  one  Sidlian  and 
one  Maltese,  sailors  who  had  served  in  a  I'hilippine 
galleon  and  one  Jesuit  priest,  Father  Salvatierra  n  L 
history  of  early  colonization,  in  any  par,  of  the  ,^,rld 
there  ,s  no  page  recording  anything  like  this  or  any 

i:  rLrr'".  "'r""  ^'^™''"^'>-  "o"^"-  ma- 
terial. And  yet  under  the  masterful  mind  of  the  ,Z 
Monary,  with  faith,  piety  and  tact  these  human  fag' 
ments  were  welded  into  a  compact  body  that  Zuered 
a  ^tubborn  sou  and  conciliated  tribal  Opposition.' 

fellthe  h I'r  ^^  "!'  '"^"  ""  ^^-^---  ""'l  ">  ^^-^ 
brought  from  Ac  T'^^  '^'  '"'^"'""<'  "">«  '^'">-- 
eTh5A  .  "P"'''''  '"  P™'^'''  t"^"  mission  if  attack- 
ed by  the  natives.    The  Mexican  Indians,  under  the  et 

the  few"' ^r't'"  *'"  ^  ''^  ""^^  "^  e^-md.  look  aner 
the  few  cattle,  sheep  and  goats  brought  in  th^  shin  a!,,! 
ma  pinch,  do  some  fighting.    After'hrowing  up  a  t^m 

t'hebuildWof  "'  T°«  "^  ''"'  «™-d.  thev  beg'n 
the  bmldmg  of  a  rough  stone  wall  around  the  camp  and 
mission  to  guard  men  and  animals  against  the  hostiS 
or  covetousuess  of  the  savaees  Tht  Tr.A-  ""f  ""y 
from  near  and  far.  and 3  ont^^'Zl^t 
demonstrations  of  friendship  or  dislike  ^ 

I  already  mentioned  that  Father  Copart  of  nfn„H.> 

tJeir  wTt  .  r-  'J  T''^'"^  *"  ''''"  "ff^'^t'ons  through 
tteir  wretched  and  always  half-starved  stomachs    Aft!r 

'  Cop  rr  H  "T'"'  """'''''  ^«  «ddres  d  thl 
m  Copart's  gntterals,  tried  to  teach  them  a  few  Spanish 
words,  and  after  three  months  baptized  his  firlt  convTr! 


134 


liV  PATH  AX1>  TKAIL. 


_„  cancer  victim-to  wliom  FatluT  Copart  had  given 
some  instruction  eleven  year,  l.el-re  T„  tl-  >"""-; 
lage  and  mission  he  gave  the  name  o  -ore.to  he  same 
nunie  wi,  li  Father  fhamnonont  had  hestmved  on  the 
Uuie  hours  outside  of  (i«e..ec.  .hero  he  sheltered,  and 
where  vet  dwell  the  last  of  the  Ilurons. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


THE  BEPOBE  OP  THE  OBAVE. 

1  well  remember  the  afternoon  I  arrived-after  a  ride 
across  the  mountains  of  thirty-two  mUes-at  a  turn  of 
the  narrow  road  and,  for  the  first  time,  looked  ^o^ 
upon  the  quaint  and  historically  fascinating  viUage  of 
Loretto,  Lower  California.  * 

This  is  the  place.    Stand  still,  my  steed, 

Let  me  review  the  scene. 
And  summon  from  the  shadowy  past 
The  forms  that  once  had  been. 
Eight  generations  of  human  life  had  come  into  the 
world  hved  their  uneventful  but  singular  existence,  and 

^tJ^  r  '"•'"'  T'  '"'''  "'^^y  ""'^^  ««'^«  ^to  had 
preceded  them,  since  first  the  Spanish  missionary  bore  a 
message  from  the  crucified  Christ  to  the  most  loathsome 
of  men  and  women  that  ever  walked  the  earth.  Yet  thev 
covUd  claim,  if  they  but  knew  it,  kinship  with  God,  the 
immutable  and  eternal,  through  Him  whose  message  of 
to  delis'  ''  *^'  ^P^"'"'  Ambassador  was  sent 

Unless  God  the  Almighty  took  away  their  human  and 
gave  them  a  brute  nature,  it  was  impossible  for  the 
Digger  tidians"  or  for  any  human  beings  to  approach 
nearer  to  the  brute's  state.  fproacu 

There  existence  was  a  hell  of  foul  licentiousness,  of 
nameless  lusts,  of  hunger,  thirst,  of  disease  and  phys  cal 
sufrering,  and  there  was  no  hope  for  betterment  saveTn 
annihila  ion  or  reconstruction,  or  rather   resurrection 
The  cmhzed  and  educated  man  who  entered  this  barren 


•i 


136 


BV  PATH  AKD  THAIL. 


desolation  of  savagery,  and  devoted  his  l.fe  and  his  taU 
ents  to  the  taming  and  uplifting  of  these  brutfzed  men 
and  women  was  a  fool  or  a  saint.  This  ."'"ther  Saha- 
tierra,  who  first  came  to  live  and  companion  with  them 
was  a  Jesuit  priest,  and  though  terrible  things  have  been 
said  and  written  about  the  Jesuits,  their  bitterest  ene- 
mies never  pilloried  them  as  fools. 

"When  we  have  delivered  our  attacks  and  exhausted 
our  ammunition  on  the  Jesuits,"  writes  de  SlarciUac, 
"we  must,  as  honorable  foes,  acknowledge  they  are,  as  a 
body,  the  greatest  scholars  and  most  fearless  unssiona- 
riPs  known  to  the  world." 

When  I  entered  this  cnrious  little  Indian  and  Mexi- 
can village,  Loretto,  I  carried  with  me  a  sense  of  rcver- 
ence  for  the  place  and  of  respect  for  the  memory  of   he 
consecrated  men  whose  sublime  heroism  stli.  Mves  in  the 
tradition  of  the  simple  people.    The  follow.ng  morning 
after  assisting  at  the  sacrifice  of  the  mass  offc     1  up  by 
a  very  dark,  half-Indian  priest,  I  entered  thr  .  .preten- 
tious but  weU  and  cleanly  kept  graveyard  to  ,.^  rear  of 
the  church.    All  over  the  great  Republic  of  Mexico   in 
CUapas,  Yucatan,  Tabasco,  in  the  states  of    Central 
Lnerica   wherever  I  went,  I  saw  many  t  -gs  wh.ch  I 
thought  could  be  improved,  but  I  must  confess  that  their 
churches  were  always  clean  and  their  graveyards  and 
cemeteries  well  looked  after.    The  Spaniards   like  the 
Ws,      ive  been  given  hard  knocks,  but  they  were 
never  charged  with  being  an  unc  ean  people.    The  Latin 
Americans  have  inherited  cleanliness   from   the  Span- 

'"to  me,  who  was  fairly  familiar  with  the  humble  but 
heroic  history  of  Loretto,  with  the  unspeakable  degrada- 
tion of  the  early  tribes  and  the  miracles  of  rehabilitation 


BV  PATH  AND  TBAII,. 


137 


wrough  among  them  by  the  Jesuit  an.I  Franci.sonn  fa- 
thers,  th,.s  consecrated  plot  of  ground  was  full  of  con- 
>oI.ng  memories.  Here  and  there  u  monun.ent  of  Todos 
Santos  marble  hfted  itself  above  a  forest  of  unpreten- 
t.ous  crosses  marking  the  graves  of  half-castes  an.I  In- 
dians. These  humble  black  crosses,  with  a  ribbon  of 
white  pamt  bordering  the  black,  bore  unpronounceable 
names,  the  age  and  the  day  of  the  death  of  the  .leceused 
in  Spamsh.  Some  very  few  monuments  had  more  elal>. 
orate  mseriptions.  but  all,  marble  and  wood,  carried  the 
Catholic  and  early  Christian  "Requiescat  in  pace"- 
May  he  or  she  rest  in  peace. 

Dominating  all  in  magnitude  and  impressiveness  was 
the  great  central  cross  of  cedar,  the  crux  sanctorum,  in- 
dicating that  the  enclosed  ground  was  consecrated  and 
exclusively  reserved  for  the  bodies  of  those  who  died  in 
umon  with  the  Catholic  church  and  sleep  the  sleep  of 

TT  7^^  '"."'^e™  bar  bore  this  inscription  from  the 
Book  of  Ecclesiastes  : 

"Corpora  sanctorum  in  pace  sepulta  sunt:  et  nomina 
Eorum  vivent  in  generationem  et  generationem. " 

(The  Bodies  of  the  Just  are  buried  in  peace  and  their 
names  live  from  generation   to   generation.)     Further 
down  on  the  cross  was  a  verse  from  the  Psalms- 
"Qui  seminant  in  lacrimis  in  gaudio  metent." 
(Ihose  who  sow  in  tears  will  reap  in  joy ) 
A  few  months  before  my  visit  to  Loretto,  the  young 
daughter  of  the  harbor-master-a  very  charming  ani 
beautiful  girl  of  seventeen-was  drowned  in  the  bav  Her 
body  was  recovered  almost  immediately,  but  for  atime 
It  was  feared  her  mother  would  lose  her  mind.    The  af- 
fection and  sorrow  of  her  family  are  materialized  in  one 
ot  the  most  chaste  and  purest  shafts  of  marble  I  have 


138 


UV    PATH  AND  tBAll,. 


of  the  young  girl  •«  «  ''«f  "'^  ;' ,,  ..f   „  brother  and 

the  passion  of  a  lo\  or.    m         „,   ,„„i..r  the  ■■KfM"  «»" 
chiseled  on  bis  sister's  '"o"!""™''  J  ^^       ..^  of  Inez, 
eat  in  pace,"  Xim.nsez'  epitapl'  »"  «"^ 
T     nslated  it  would  read: 

Warm  southern  sun, 
Shine  kindly  here; 
Warm  southern  wind, 
Blow  gently  here; 

Oreen  sod  above, 

Lie  light,  lie  UgW, 
Oood-night,  dear  heart,      _^ 
Goou-uight,  good-night. 

,,,,,„^.    anoth^P^to^M^^-I^J^Si^^ 

rnrs^^vSrinrorr^iS^^^  -  ^-^^^ 
-:i^iS..wo.d.to.sub.^e.^^ 

cism.    But,  perveriBu  .  b  _„_;„,*  the  merolxTS  of 

'Z7ZX  arXwise  for  superstition  and  too  deUb- 
erate  for  fanat'"^'.  ,  ^^^  „„  ^v  wav  to  Guamas 
jrf'oit  rSS  o\rat^s  Angeles  expressly 


nv  I'Aiii  .\x;j  iiiAri,. 


1.19 


tonillcn  Cliiii-lfs  F.  I.iiimiiis,  tlu' cditiir  of  "(int  U  -,' 
lui.i  iliu  I'utliiir  of  111,.  •■Spanisli  I'ioticcrs."  Willi  tim 
I'o  Millie  .■xcrptlo!!  uf  liuiloir,.  ItHiidfliiT,  Mr.  l.mimilH  Is 
!lic  licst  informed  iiikI  nio>t  rcliiiblo  liviiiK  iiiilliority  on 
till'  Iriho.s  <if  111..  soiitliwcHt  and  llie  early  niLssionn  of 
C.difornla.  In  answer  to  my  n.,|nest  for  his  opinion  ou 
tlie  manhood  and  sineeruy  of  the  priest.s  who  foiiKht  the 
wilderneMM  and  evangelized  tin.  trihe.n  of  the  rneifle  coast, 
Mr.  I.nniinis  took  from  a  shelf  his  "Spanish  IMoneers,'' 
and,  plaeinR  his  finser  on  a  passiiKP.  asked  mo  to  road  it, 
nnd  this  is  what  I  read:  "Tlioir  zeal  and  their  heroism 
were  infinite.  Xo  dci-erl  was  too  frif;litfnl  for  them,  no 
danger  too  appalling  Alono,  unarmed,  Ihoy  traversed 
the  most  forhiddinft  hinds,  l.raved  the  most  deadiv  kbv- 
ages,  and  loft  on  the  minds  of  tlie  Indians  such  a  proud 
monument  as  mailed  p.xplorers  and  I'onciuoring  armies 
never  made." 

Before  the  "lirenk  up"  of  the  Lower  California  mis- 
sions, eausod  by  irolilieal  .jealousies,  disease  among  the 
trihes  and  eivil  wars,  the  Catholic  ehurch  had  established 
sixteen  missions  or  imrishes  for  the  Indians,  e.ttending 
from  Tia  .Mian,.i  at  the  north,  to  Cape  Palmas  of  the 
south.  Notice  that  I  mention  disease  as  contributory  to 
the  re<Iuetion  of  the  missions.  The  passage  of  a  primi- 
tive peojile  from  savagery  to  civilization,  is  like  in  its 
effects  on  human  systems,  to  the  influence  of  an  entirely 
now  and  unaccustomed  climate  and  is  generally  followed 
by  a  decrease  in  numbers  during  a  transition"  period  of 
more  or  less  duration. 

What  this  transition  costs  we  may  estimate  by  analogj- 
from  lower  organic  kingdoms.  For  instance,  spring 
wheat  has  been  changed  into  winter  wheat,  but  the  ex- 
periment entailed    a    loss    of     nearly    three    harvests. 


140 


BY  PATH  AND  IBAIIi. 


Wheat  has  been  forced  to  accommodate  itself  to  the 
SOU  and  climate  of  Sierra  Leone,  but  only  after  an 
enormous  loss  and  years  of  effort.    Cochm  Chma  hen. 
were  introduced  into  the  state  of  Colombia,  bouth  Amer- 
ica, and  it  was  twenty  years  before  they  were  acchma- 
tized.    So  that  practically  twenty  generations  Pe"shed 
before  the  few  which  survived  chickenhood  could  adapt 
themselves  to  conditions  and  increase  in  numbers  home- 
thing  analogous  happens  when  members  of  the  human 
family  try  to  conform  to  altered  conditions  or  enter  upon 
a  period  of  transition.    It  may  end  in  complete  disap- 
pearance as  in  the  case  of  the  Tasmanians  and  Maoris, 
or  be  followed  by  a  revival  in  vitality  under  new  condi- 
tions as  among  the  Mexicans  and  Fihpmos.    When  the 
missionary  priests  entered  California  they  met  a  de- 
composing race,  whose  excesses  and  prolonged  physical 
Buffering  from  exposure  and  frequent  starvation  had  re- 
duced them  to  degeneracy.   Their  extinction  in  their  wild 
and  brutalized  state  was  sure  to  occur  in,  ethnologically, 
a  very  short  time.    No  doubt  the  restraints  of  civiliza. 
tion  and  the  new  conditions  to  which  they  were  asked  to 
conform  hastened  the  inevitable. 

There  is  left  to-day  out  of  a  population  computed  in 
1698  to  be  six  thousand,  a  scattered  remnant  of,  pernaps 
fifteen  hundred.  Before  the  expulsionof  the  fa  hers  and 
the  consequent  abandonment  of  the  missions,  almost  the 
entire  peninsula  was  redeemed  and  its  population  Chris- 
tianized and  civilized.  To-day  the  unorganized  remnant 
roam  the  hills  of  Khada-Khama  retaining  a  few  Chris- 
tian practices  wrapt  up  in  the  rags  of  pagan  supersti- 
tion When  they  disappear  forever,  there  will  be  no 
Cooper  to  perpetuate  their  memory,  or  write  a  romance 
on  "The  Last  of  the  Digger  Indians." 


CHAPTEB  XVII. 

aOLDIGRB  OF  IBE  NEW  TEBTAMENT. 

It  m.j  la,,  omrred  to  .  fe,  „|  „,-  „. j„  ,j   . 

«.»«  ™,.„  0.  th.  S";i'o7r:o«r 
.rLS.T:r£rtrrr« -cssr 

Chnst  and  humanity  challenge  the  admiration  of  Z 
brave  and  stagger  faith  itself  °"'"-«'">n  of  the 

^eat  order  it  was  because  I  have  alreadv  b.-en  antic, 
pated  by  many  pens  abler  than  mine.  BancroTt  C  F 
Lumm,s,  Stoddard,  Helen  Hunt  Jackson  Bryan  CTneh 
and    even    poor    Bret    Hnrto     ,v    e    ^    ^'•>'"'  >^lineh 

forgetting  those' saintly  men,  the  Je  uT^ho ''™-^' 
trail  that  afterward  carried  them  to  the  martyr's  grave 


14:! 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


"i 


iti^  i 


in  the  lonelv  desert.  The  world,  and  America  in  pavticu- 
lar  will  never  repay  or  be  able  to  repay  its  debt  to  the 
sons  of  St.  Francis.  Indeed,  I  doubt  if  Columbus  could 
have  sailed  out  of  the  harbor  of  Palos  on  his  providen- 
tii'l  uiis.sion  of  discovery  had  he  not  enlisted  the  co-oper- 
ation and  influence  of  Brands  of  Calabria,  confessor  to 
Isabella,  the  ([uecn  of  Spain,  and  a  member  of  the  Fran- 
ciscan order.  ,  j  .     ii. 

It  was  this  Spanish  Franciscan  who  appealed  to  the 
queen  to  outfit  the  great  Genoese  for  his  daring    ex- 
periment.      Then  the  first  and    most    influential    pro- 
tector in  Spain  of  the  great  Admiral  was   that  noble 
and  generous  Franciscan,  Perez  de  Marchena.    Return- 
ing from  his  first  wondrous  voyage  of  discovery,  Colum- 
bus obtained  from  Pope  Alexander  VI.  the  privilege  of 
selecting  missionaries  to  accompany  him  on  his  second 
voyage  to  America.    He  chose  several  Franciscans,  in- 
cluding Father  Perez,  the  astronomer,  and,  arriving  at 
Hispaniola,  now  the  Island  of  Haiti,  laid,  in  conjunc- 
tion with  the  Franciscans,  the  first  ston<'  of  the  city  of 
San  Domingo.    Here,  too,  came,  in  1505,  the  Franciscan 
Father  Eemi,  the  King  of  Scotland's  brother,  accompa- 
nied by  members  of  his  order,  who  established  for  the 
conversion  of  the  Indians  of  Hispaniola  and  those  of  the 
Antilles  the  monastery  and  headciuarters  of  the  Holy 
Cross.    It  was  a  Franciscan  priest,  Jean  Bernard  Cas- 
tor! de  Todi,  the  astronomer,  who  offered  up  the  first 
mass  on  the  virgin  soil  of  America.    It  was  also  a  Fran- 
ciscan priest,  Jean  Berganon,  who  first  addressed  the 
Indians  in  their  own  language,  and  the  first  missionary 
to  die  and  be  buried  in  America  wa.-,  a  member  of  the 
order.  Father  AUesandro. 

Diega  de  Landa,  missionary  to  the  Qmcbes  of  la- 


Dv  I'Axii  a;cd  ti;ail. 


143 


basco,  and  then  Bishop  of  Yucatan  in  1573,  wrote  the 
History  of  lucatan,  mastered  the  mysterious  Quiche  lan- 
guage and  deciphered  the  hieratic  Maya  alphabet,  was 
a  Franciscan.    He  left  us  the  key  to  some  of  the  stranRe 
inscriptions  on  the  monuments  of  Central  America     He 
deciphered  the  weird  cliaracters  on  the  monuments    of 
Mayapan  and  Chichin-Itza ,  but  for  him,  his  intelligence 
and  tireless  industry,  these  gravings  would  perhaps  re- 
main a  mystery  for  all  time,  like  the  Egyptian  hiero- 
glyphics before  the  discovery  of  the  Kosetta  stone  and 
the  magnificent  research  and  ingenuity  of  Champollion. 
Father  Pierre  Cousin,  a  French  Franciscan,  was  the 
first  priest  martyred  for  Christ  in  America,  and  the  first 
bishop  consecrated  for  America,  1511,  was  Gareias  de 
Predilla,  a  Franciscan,  who  built  his  cathedral  in  San 
Domingo     But  I  am  straying  far  afield  and  I  call  back 
my  wandering  pen  to  California  and  the  southwest  of 
our  own  country. 

By  some  mysterious  centripetal  force  almost  all  the 
writings  on  the  Franciscans  of  California  converged  to- 
ward one  personality-Father  Jnnipero  Serra,  a  saintly 

college  of  San  Fernando,  Mexico  City,  is  an  oil  painting 
of  the  gentle  priest  executed  one  hundred  and  sixty 
years  ago.  It  is  a  face  full  of  human  pathos,  of  tender- 
ness, of  spirituaUty:  this  painting  and  an  enlarged  da- 
guerreotype in  the  old  Franciscan  College  of  Sania  Bar- 
bara, Cal.,  are  all  that  remain  to  bring  back  the  form  and 
features  of  one  who  will  for  all  time  fill  a  conspicuous 
place  in  Cahforma  history.  Now,  good  and  saintlv  as 
was  Father  Jnnipero,  and  great  and  manv  as  are  the 
praises  smig  of  him,  he  was  not  superior,  indeed,  iadged 
by  the  standard  of  the  world,  he  was  not  the  cinal  of 


144 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


other  Franciscan  missionaries  of  the  southwest,  whose 
names  one  seldom  ever  hears.  If  the  crucifixion  of  the 
flesh,  with  its  appetites,  desires  and  demands;  if  great 
Builering  voluntarily  assumed  and  patiently  boiiie;  if 
fatigue,  hunger,  thirst  and  exposure  endured  uncom- 
plainingly for  God  and  a  great  cause,  and  if  surrender- 
ing freely  life  itself,  for  the  uplifting  of  the  outcast  and 
the  accursed,  be  the  marks  of  heroic  sanctity  and  heroi«: 
men,  then  there  wore  greater  saints  and  greater  men  on 
the  desert  missions  than  Junipero  Serra.  Alone,  away 
from  the  eye  and  the  applause  of  civilized  man,  these 
lonely  priests  in  desert  and  on  mountain  trod  the  wine 
press  of  the  fury  of  insult,  mockery  and  derision.  For 
weary  years  of  laborious  and  unceasing  sacrifice,  amid 
perils  as  fearful  as  ever  tried  the  heart  of  man,  they 
walked  the  furrow  to  the  martyr's  stake,  nor  cast  one 
halting,  lingering  look  behind.  Their  zeal,  their  courage, 
their  fidelity  to  duty  in  the  presence  of  eminent  warn- 
ings ;  their  fortitude  under  hunger,  weariness  and  exces- 
sive fatigue;  their  angelic  piety  and  puritv  of  life,  and 
their  prodigious  courage  when  confronted  ^.ith  torture 
and  death,  have  built  on  the  lonely  desert  a  monument 
to  St.  Francis  and  to  heroic  Catholic  charity,  a  monu- 
ment which  will  enduro  till  time  shall  be  no  more. 

Of  these  men  were  Fathers  Garees,  clubbed  to  death  by 
the  Yumas ;  Martin  de  Arbide,  burned  alive  by  the  Zunis ; 
Juan  Diaz,  tortured  by  the  Mojaves,  and  thirty  others, 
martyred  for  the  faith.  The  history  of  the  conversion 
and  civilization  of  the  Indians  of  the  California  coast, 
Arizona  and  New  Mexico  by  the  Franciscan  fathers, 
forms  one  of  the  most  brilliant  chapters  in  the  martyr- 
ology  and  confessorium  of  the  imperishable  Church  of 
God.    By  their  patience,  tact  and  kindness,  by  the  un- 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


145 


In   tf        '^Z      ''""'   °^  "''''■  ^''"''   ^^'''   ■"«■>   Ol  God 

iTft  J^h    n  ""'^  '"^'"^"'"'  °^ """'  ■^^^•"s*  flock.. 

Mted  them  un  o  firm  earth,  Christianized  and  civilised 
them^  From  Cape  San  Lucas  to  San  Uiego,  and  on  to 
«nH  M  .T"?  ^""i^"'  "^"S"'"^'  ^"  0^"  Arizona,  Texas 
and  tZ^T":  '^«>''«""'"«''«''  uussions,built  churches 
and  taught  the  tribes  to  cultivate  the  land.    Thev  gath- 

taught  them  horticulture  and  irrigation,  and  furnished 
them  seed  and  implements  of  agriculture.  Thev  intro- 
duced-sheep  and  cattle,  planted  vineyards,  oliVe  and 
orange  groves,  and  made  of  these  human  wrecks  a  peace- 

Th;v"lf  .Tr  ^""^  '""'*''"''•  P^°P'«-  They  did  more. 
They  taught  these  men  and  women  of  unknown  race  and 
origin  how  to  break  and  shoe  horses,  to  carve  in  wood, 
0  mould  clay,  make  and  lay  tiles,  to  tan  hides  and  make 
shoes,  to  smg  and  play  on  musical  instruments,  to  make 

^™  .rf'!.'  "'°^u'  P'""*"^^  '""J  ^'''  '^^y  taught 
them  the  trades  of  the  cooper,  the  weaver,  the  saddfer 
the  blacksmith,  the  painter,  the  carpenter,  the  baker,  he 
miller,  the  rope  maker,  the  stone  cutter,  the  mason  and 
r  Ll^  t"'"''"*''  occupations.  Some  of  the  finer  arts 
taught  the  Indians  by  the  fathers  are  practiced  to-day  br 
the  members  of  the  tribes,  such,  for  example,  as  embroi! 
dery  in  gold  and  silver  thread,  fancy  basket  making, 
moulding  «„d  ,i.„g  p^jj^^^   i^^^j^^^  ^  J, 

and  drawn  work,  from  the  sale  of  which  to  curio  dealers 
and  visitors  the  Indians  draw  considerable  revenue 
men,  in  1834,  a  band  of  Catholic  renegades,  calling 
themselves  the  Republic  of  Mexico,  broke  up  the  mis 
sions,  seized  upon  the  possessions  and  revenues  of  the 
monasteries  and  Christian  pueblos,  the  Indians  were  re- 


146 


BT  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


duced  to  beggary  and  became  human  derelicts,  ontcasts 
and  thieves. 

Fray  Junipero  Serra,  founder  of  the  early  missions  of 
Southern  California,  was  a  Franciscan  priest,  whose  un- 
blemished life,  angelic  piety  and  habitual  tenderness  form 
a  splendid  pedestal  for  the  statue  of  admiration  erected 
to  his  memory  by  an  appreciative  public.  It  was  on  the 
morning  of  July  16,  1769,  that  Admiral  Galvez,  an  up- 
right man  and  a  brave  fighter,  together  with  Father 
Junipero  Serra  and  another  Franciscan  priest,  sailed 
into  the  bay,  landed,  and  founded  what  is  now  known  as 
"the  old  town,"  a  few  miles  away  from  the  present 
beautiful  city  of  San  Diego.  They  brought  with  them 
soldiers  and  laborers,  200  head  of  cattle,  a  full  supply 
of  seeds;  seeds  of  grain,  fruit,  vegetables  and  flowers, 
young  vines  and  bulbs,  with  an  abundance  of  tools  and 
implements. 

Thus  by  the  priests  of  the  Catholic  church  were  intro- 
duced into  California  the  horticultural,  pastoral  and 
agricultural  industries,  the  civilization  of  the  coast  tribes 
begun,  and  the  first  mission  opened.  The  founding  of  a 
mission  and  town  in  those  days  of  faith  was  an  affair 
of  very  great  importance.  When  the  men,  stock  and  sup- 
plies were  landed,  and  the  commander  of  the  expedition 
unfurled  the  standard  of  Spain,  all  heads  were  bared  and 
a  salute  fired.  Then  the  captain  strode  to  the  side  of 
the  floating  flag,  raised  on  high  three  times,  in  honor  of 
the  Holy  Trinity,  a  large  cross  carrying  the  Image  of 
the  Redeemer.  At  once  the  commander,  soldiers  and 
men  went,  with  uncovered  heads,  to  their  knees,  bowed 
in  worship,  and,  rising,  chanted  the  "Te  Deum,"  a  hymn 
of  praise  to  God  and  in  His  Name,  and  in  the  name  of 


BV  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


147 


the  king  of  Spain,  took  peaceable  possession  of  the  coun- 
try. 

Having  chosen  a  site  best  adapted  for  their  infant 
city,  the  priests  superintended  the  erection  of  an  altar 
under  the  shade  of  a  friendly  tree,  Father  Junipero, 
robed  in  the  vestments  he  had  brought  with  him  from 
his  monasterj-  of  San  Fernando,  Mexico  Citv,  eelehralod 
the  first  mass  oflfered  up  in  California,  Julv  17,  17G9  and 
before  intoning  the  "Credo,"  feelinglv  addressed  his 
companio;is.  Far  away  on  the  hilltops  the  naked  sav- 
ages, amazed  at  the  sight  of  the  ship  and  astounded  by 
the  report  of  the  guns,  gazed  witli  awe  and  wonder  on 
the  white-robed  priest,  the  plumed  commander,  the  uni- 
formed soldiers,  the  horses  and  strangclv  horned  cows 
and  sheep.  After  mass  the  Spaniards  formed  in  proces- 
sion and  moved  towards  the  bay,  whose  waters  the  priest 
solemnly  blessed,  and  in  honor  of  St.  James  of  Alcala 
confirmed  the  name  "Puerto  (Bay)  de  San  Diego  de  Al- 
cala '  bestowed  upon  the  harbor  by  Vizcaino,  November 
12,  1603. 

The  following  day  they  began  the  erection  of  a  fort 
and  church,  .selecting  an  old  Indian  rnncheria,  called 
Cosoy,  as  best  suited  for  the  site  of  a  Christian  pueblo 

Tlw  rums  of  the  church  and  fort  are  here  to-day;  two 
stately  palms,  planted  by  the  fathers,  still  wave  and  nod 
with  every  cooling  breeze,  and  the  dear  old  bell,  that 
every  morning  called  the  Indians  to  pravers,  hangs  in 
Its  rude  belfry,  outside  the  church,  reminding  the  monev- 
makmg  and  aggressive  American  that  in  those  davs 
men  worshiped  God  and  believed  in  a  hereafter  In  Vu- 
gust,  1774,  they  changed  their  quarters  and  removed  the 
mission  and  settlement  six  miles  up  the  vallev  to  a  place 
called  by  the  Indians  Nipaguav.     Here  the"v    built    a 


148 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


wooden  church  thatched  with  tule  rushes,  a  blacksmith 
ghop,  storehouses  and  outbuildings  for  the  men. 

On  the  night  of  November  5,  1775,  the  mission  was 
attacked  by  the  savages.  No  intimation,  no  warning  or 
provocation  was  given.  They  swooped  down  upon  the 
unsuspecting  Spaniards,  slaughtered  Father  Jaume  and 
four  others  and  burned  the  buildings,  including  the 
church.  Father  Fustre,  who  fortunately  escaped  the 
massacre,  wrote  an  interesting  account  of  the  murder  of 
the  priest  and  the  destruction  of  the  mission.  The  fol- 
lowing year  the  mission  was  restored,  and,  in  1834,  when 
the  fathers  were  driven  out  by  Mexican  bandits,  calling 
themselves  the  Bepublic  of  Mexico,  the  Indians  wera  all 
Christians  and  civilized. 

His  old  mission  of  "Our  Lady  of  Sorrows,"  at  San 
Diego,  was  destroyed  during  the  Mexican  war,  but  some 
crumbling  walls  yet  remain,  eloquent  memorials  of  the 
romantic  past.  The  few  acres  of  land  and  the  buildings 
on  them,  which  were  confiscated  and  sold  to  a  Mexican 
politician,  were  recovered  for  the  church  in  1856.  Beside 
the  dear  old  church  there  is  now  an  industrial  school, 
where  the  Indian  children,  from  the  reservations  of 
Southern  California,  are  trained  and  taught  by  the  Sis- 
ters of  St.  Joseph.  To  thi.  iiUle  farm  belongs  the  dis- 
tinction of  protecting  the  first  olive  trees  planted  on  the 
continent  of  North  America.  Three  miles  above  the 
school,  the  old  dam  built  by  the  fathers  and  their  Indian 
converts  1?5  years  ago,  is  still  in  existence.  From  this 
dam,  through  a  deep  and  ugly  ravine,  they  carried  an 
aqueduct  of  tiles  imbedded  in  mortar  and  rubble  to  irri- 
gate their  gardens.  The  gnarled  old  orchard,  still  bear- 
ing its  fruit,  is  as  luscious  as  in  the  days  when  the  "old 
mission"  brands  of  pickled  olives  and  olive  oil  were  fa- 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


149 


mous  the  world  over.    Indeed,  they  are  famous  yet    No 
feiuuiiK  ptuestiils,  two  statues— one    nf    v;, 

ly  companions  tai      t  »Z  *°^  '"'  P"^^*- 

imgate^h:Tand  rai;egrarfTurLJ°  '=""'!?*«  ""'^ 
make  their  labo;  profitf^'  "I  do  not7  ''''  "'"' 
Mr.  W.  E   Curtis  in  th„  pi  •         ^      '  '"""'•     ^"^s 

missionary  on  ty^H^f"  ^^HrS^f  r'"'  '^""^ 
testant-who  accomplished  more  l^d  for  h'  %  n™" 
creaturcs.     The  heroism  of  P„?     t     •  •"'  ^*"°^ 

usefulness,  his  selfTcrifi      ht  piir'Tv""'  '^^ 

order,  introduced  horses,    cattle    and   Ep^   itJl 


IW) 


DY  P4TII    *NI)  TRAIL. 


orange  and  olive  groves  and  .nud.  nf  their  «-Hhy Jo"- 
verts  a   l-oncoful   and   industrious   people      Ucft  alone 
aud  in  undisturhed  pursuit  of  their  upostol.c  work   the 
f,l  rs  would  in  tinu.  have  eonverte.l  and  ^"v '^^d  aU 
e  tribes  of  the  I'aeitic  coast  and  the  Southwest,    t   om 
he  day  they  opened  the  Hrst  uussiou  to  j'-;  mj--; -' 
the  conllscation  of  their  property,  m  !«■!+;"'«  f"'"^* 
et  w       opposition  and  diseourageu.ent.    They  suceeed- 
ed  „  eon„u 'ring  the  hostility  of  the  savages,  erad^at  ng 
their  foul  superstitions  aud  winn.ng  tliem   o  a  Ihr.stmn 
and  a    lean  ^fe,  but  their  virtues,  self-denial  and  hero.c 
ZrUv  failed  to  subdue  the  eupidity  and  avarice  of  the 
founders  of  an  illegitimate  republic. 

From  his  death  bed  in  his  little  """"f  7, .'" ,  ^'T 
terev,  the  saintly  priest  .lunil-ero  .Serra  asked  h  s  bret  - 
ren  to  beg  from  Ood  for  more  help  in  the  desolate  wil- 
derness On  the  night  of  August  -JB,  ]-84,  he  was  dying 
a"d  h  B  last  words  were:  "Pray  ye,  therefore  the  T.ord 
o?the  harvest  that  He  send  laborers  into  His  vineyard.' 


BOOK  III. 
IN  THE  UND  OF  THE  PAPAGOES 


i 

I 


I 


CHAl'Ti';!;  \-'-[iT 

A  LAWD  .1,    MChNR    VDM.tlw. 

here  last  night  fill,,  i  .  ■^'"""^'''-•"X  l'""i,  I  arrived 
for  the  wonderful  wo  ;,('':H'''''''r'''  """  '"'""'•''"™ 
strange  configJl^lr.  i  !:at:-:'t  J  "l" 
wrought  by  the  hand  of  tim,..    O.n  e  m   ' '    i„  T^^'t 

r.'r  s.= "'■"":  "-""^-.nt- 


154 


BY  PATH  AND  HHU.. 


i4 


vomit  compared  to  which  th"  Matatutu  discharge  is  but 
an  intestinal  disturbance. 

The  San  Francisco  mountain,  13,000  feet  high,  on  the 
northwestern  edge  of  Arizona,  is  one  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful mountains  in  America.  At  seme  period,  geologically 
recent,  it  was  the  focus  of  an  igneus  commotion  of  un- 
eqnaled  duration  and  violence.  It  poured  out  rivers  and 
lakes  of  lava,  which  covered  the  land  for  two  hundred 
square  miles  and  raised  it  in  places  500  feet.  This  state- 
ment may  stagger  belief,  but  any  one  who  leaves  the 
Santa  Fe  at  Ash  Fork  and  follows  the  trail  to  the  Hupais 
village  of  Ave  Supais,  and  begins  the  descent  of  Cataract 
Canyon,  may  verify  for  himself  the  enormous  depth  of 
this  unprecedented  flow. 

Eetuming  to  Ash  Fork,  when  the  sun  is  declining  and 
the  sky  flecked  with  clouds,  the  nir  man  will  see  a 
sunset  impossible  of  description,  paralyzing  the  genius 
of  a  Paul  Loraine  and  the  brush  of  a  Turner.  Then  the 
heavens  are  bathed  in  a  lurid  blood  color,  in  purple  and 
saffron,  or  gleam  with  vivid  sheen  of  molten,  burnished 
gold,  when  a  falling  cataract  of  fiery  vermilion  rests 
upon  the  purple  peaks  and  ridges  of  the  western  moun- 
tains. I  know  not  any  land  where  ihe  full  majesty  of 
the  text  of  the  inspired  writer  is  more  luminously  pres- 
ent than  here  in  this  region  of  wonders.  "The  heavens 
declareth  the  glorj  of  God  and  the  firmament  showeth 
His  handiwork." 

East  of  the  Missouri  river  this  is  an  unknown  land, 
even  to  the  well-informed  American.  Wealthy  and  pre- 
sumedly educated  citizens  of  the  East  spend  millions 
annually  sightseeing  in  Europe  and  Egypt,  when  here, 
within  their  borders,  is  a  land  where  mysterious  and 
pre-historic  races  dwell,  where  nature  and  nature's  God 


nv   I'ATII  AXn  TRAIL. 


l.W 


Imvo  v,-r«„aht  .n.redil.le  marvH.s  „„liko  :„,vtlm,s-  seen 
elscwlK.n-  „p„„  the  earth,  an,l  of  whiel.  the  people  seem 
to  have  „„  appreeiation.  The  liills  and  h.kes  of  Switz- 
erland the  Alps  and  Appenines,  to  whieh  thousand.. 
.  ar  alter  year,  go  from  An>eri,.a  ostensibly  to  admire 
u  ,onhg„rat,ons  and  towering,  heights  of  these  histor- 
ca  >  famons  mountains,  ean  olier  nothing  to  the  eve  or 
dersof'tT"''""""", '",'''  '•""'pared  to  the  naturalwon- 

«ne:;,:eior """ '""" ""'  -'■  "•"'^"  "^«^  "^^-^ '» ^^ 

Nowhere  may  there  he  found  such  extensive  areas  of 
and  deserts,  crossed  and  recrossed  in  every  directLn  by 
lofty  mountams  of  strange  formation,  as  in  this  eom 
paratively  unknown  region.     Here  are  fath„„,less  can- 

IZ  ofllTr  'f  t"'-P""'"«  P"""^^  '"«'  «  vast 
ThZ  ""  *  /"""■"''""""^  P"^^'*-'^  i"  topography. 
There  are  broad  stretches  of  desert,  where  the  winds 
nuse  storn,s  of  dust  and  whirl  cyclones  of  sand.tr'S 
death  to  man  and  beast.  Here  are  to  be  found  disn.al  ra- 
vines,  horrent  abysses  and  startling  oanvons,  in  whose 
gloomy  depths  flow  streams  of  water  pure  and  clear  as 
ever  nppled  through  the  pages  of  Cervantes.  Her"  are 
«.e  cells  of  the  ditr-dwellers,  the  burrows  of  the  trog 
Iod>  tes,  or  pre-h.storic  cave-men,  the  ruins  of  the  ancient 

Ime  I^h"'  ""'  *?™^  "'  P-Colnn-bian  tribes  who 
l..ne  gone  down  am,d  the  fierce  eonfliets  of  tribal  wars 
an.l  have  disappeared  from  off  the  earth 

Darwm,  Huxley  and  Maupas  are  welcome  to  their 
hcor,es  accounting  for  the  origin  of  Man  an.I  his  expT 
s.on  from  the  brute  to  a  civilized    being,  but    mv    Mfe 

ml'Zt't'l  c' t-  T"""  ""'"'  --«-  ""ve  oonvin!2 
me  tlMt  the  territory  separating  the  civilized  from  the 
savage  man  could  never  be  crossed  by  the  savagT  u„ 


156 


BY  PATH  ASD  TRAIL. 


n 


assisted  by  a  civilized  guide,  while  all  history  proves  that 
races  at  one  time  in  possession  of  civilization  have 
passed  over  that  territory  and  descended  into  the  gloomy 
depths  of  savagery,  where  many  of  them  yet  remain.  In 
Arizona,  at  least,  it  was  impossible  for  the  Indian  to  lift 
himself  out  of  his  degradation,  for  when  he  began  his 
rude  cultivation  of  the  land,  the  ferocious  mountain 
tribes  swooped  down  upon  him  and  drove  him  into  the 
desert  or  to  the  inaccessible  cliffs. 

Following  the  instinct  of  self-preservation,  he  built 
his  stone  hut  on  lofty  ledges  or  scooped  from  the  friable 
mountain  side,  fifty,  one  hundred,  two  hundred  feet  in 
air,  a  cave  which  served  for  an  observatory  and  a  refuge 
for  his  wife  and  children.  With  a  rope  ladder,  twisted 
from  the  viscera  of  the  grey  wolf,  or  the  hide  of  the 
mountain  lion,  he  climbed  down  from  his  lofty  perch,  re- 
turning with  food  and  water  for  his  miserable  family. 
Thus  began  the  now  famous  "clift-dwellings,"  which 
seventy  years  ago  many  of  our  learned  antiquarians 
thought  were  the  dens  of  an  extinct  species,  half  animal 
and  half  man.  Seeing  and  knowing  nothing  of  the  rope 
which  was  always  lifted  by  the  woman  when  the  man  was 
at  home  or  on  the  hunt,  the  deduction  was  quite  natural 
that  no  human  being  could  scale  the  face  of  the  almost 
perpendicular  cliff. 

The  Moqui  Indians  still  inhabit  these  strange  rock 
lairs  on  the  northern  side  of  the  Colorado  Chiquito. 
There  is  no  tribe  of  aborigines  left  upon  the  earth,  there's 
no  region  of  the  world,  more  deserving  of  examination 
than  the  Moquis  and  the  mysterious  land  they  occupy. 
Here  at  the  village  of  Huaipi,  on  a  mesa  or  table  land 
surr(<mded  by  sand  dunes  and  amorphous  boulders  of 
old  red  sandstone,  is  held  everj-  second  year  the  mystic 


MOQOI  U)VMU;  cuiT  pboplk. 


BT  PATE  AKD  TBAIL. 


157 


nte  of  the  "Feast  of  the  Snake,"  when  the  tribal  medi- 
cine men,  or  shamans,  holding  in  their  mouths  and  fond- 
ling venomous  rattlesnakes,  dance  around  and  through 
the  sacred  fire,  and  rushing  wildly  through  the  assembled 
crowd  of  women  and  children,  disappear  behind  the  estu- 
fas  and  liberate  the  reptiles.    These  Moqui  dwellings  and 
the  Zuni  pueblos  of  New  Mexico  are  the  oldest  continu- 
ously inhabited  structures  in  America  and  probably  re- 
main more  nearly  in  their  original  state  than  those  of 
any  other  aboriginal  people  in  North  or  South  America. 
For  ethnological  study  it  is  hardly  possible  to  overe.-*- 
timate  the  value  of  these  strange  people— the  Mociuis 
and  the  Zunis.     In  the  accounts  of  their  early  explora- 
tions the  Spanish  missionary  fathers  found  from  eightv 
to  a  hundred  cells  of  these  pueblo  and  cliff  dwellers  in- 
habited  in  Sonora,  Chihuahua  and  Arizona.   Cleariy  the 
whole  of  New  Mexico,  Arizona  and  northern  Mexico  was 
occupied  by  thee  5  semi-civilized  people,  who    lived    in 
caves,  stone  and  adobe  houses,  cultivated  the  land  with 
stone  hoes,  and  irrigated  it  with  water  brought  in  chan- 
nels from  the  nearest  river.    Centuries  before  the  advent 
of  the  Spaniards,  the  decline  of  the  race  began,and  event- 
ually would  have  ended  in  total  savagery  if  the  European 
had    not    entered    upon    the  scene.    Internecine  wars, 
drought,  pestilence,  and,  above  all,  the  coming  into  the 
land  of  the  fierce  Apaches,  or  Dinnes,  and  their  many 
predatory  and  annihilating  raids,  wore  down  the  ancient 
race  and  threatened  their  extinction.    All  the  adobe  and 
stone  ruins,  all  the  remains  of  ditches  and  canals  from 
all  over  the  river  lands  of  New  Mexico  and  Arizona,  are 
the  relics  of  these  strange  people. 

This  is  not  the  place  to  enter  into  a  disquisition  on 
the  origin  or  migration  of  the  race.    I  may,  however. 


158 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


add  tlmt  in  the  common  use  of  adobe,  for  building  mate- 
rial in  tlie  plain  walls,  rising  to  a  height  of  many  stories, 
in  the  architecture  of  their  terraced  structures,  absence 
of  doors  in  tlie  lower  stories,  the  ascent  by  external  lad- 
ders t..  the  higher,  their  buildings  were  altogether  unlike 
anv  found  in  Mexico,  Yucatan  or  Central  America.  In 
the  absence  of  arched  ceilings,  ol'  overlapping  blocks,  of 
all  architectural  decorations,  of  idols,  temples  and  bmld- 
ings  for  religious  rites,  of  burial  mounds  and  mummies 
or  human  remains,  rock  inscriptions  and  miscellaneouB 
relics  the  monuments  of  the  Zunis  and  .Mo<|ms  present 
no  analogies  with  the  Mayas,  Quiches  or  any  known  race 
of  people  now  existing. 

Betnming  from  this  digression,  let  me  continue  my 
explorations.    Here  in  this  land  of  wonders  is  the  Pet- 
rified Forest,  where  are  to  be  seen  trunks  of  giant  trees 
over  ten  feet  in  diameter  and    a    hundred    feet  long, 
changed  from  wood  into  camelian,  precious  jasper  and 
banded  agate.    Here  are  hundreds    of    tons-a  riotous 
outpouring-of  Chalcedony,  topaz,  agate  and  onyx,  pro- 
tected from  vandals  by  decree  of  congress.    Here  also 
is  the  Cohino  Forest,  through  which  one  may  ride  for 
five  days  and  find  no  water  unless  it  be  the  rainy  season 
There  are  places  here  where  the  ground  is  covered  with 
pure  baking  soda,  which  at  times  rises  in  a  cloud  of  irri- 
tating dust,  and  when  driven  by  the  wind  excoriates  the 
nostrils,  throat,  eyes  and  ears.    There  are  depressions 
near  the  mouth  of  the  Virgin  River,  where  slabs  of  salt, 
two  or  three  feet  thick  and  clear  as  lake  ice,  may  be  cut; 
and  mirages  of  deceiving  bodies  of  water  so  realistic  that 
even  the  old  desert  traveler,  parched  with  thirst,  is  some- 
times lured  to  his  death.  . 
In  this  territory  is  Jtogollon  Mountain,  whose  sides 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


1S9 


and  summit  are  covered  with  «  fn,„„*    « 

where  ravanes.  arroyos,  angular  hills  and  volcanic  set' 
tlmgs  conspire  to  produce  one  of  th!.  '''°°'''  ***' 
strangest  spots  on  t'he  earth^s  surface         """'"'  ""*' 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

VEOETATION  OF  THE  DESEHT. 

I  cannot  resist  the  temptation  of  enlarging  and  dwell- 
.ng  upon,  what  I  may  term,  the  natural  mirLles  of  thU 
extrnordinarj-  region.    North  of  Yuma,  on  the  Colorado, 
there  ;ae  hundreds  of  acres  of  mosaic  pavement  fash 
•oned  from  minute  cubes  of  jasper,  earn^ian  and  agat, 

swept  by  the  wind,  is  as  visibly  compact  and  regular  a's 
Irtv  r  T  "  P'*'"  '''-  ""  "««'«'  "-d  forced 
18  entirely  hidden  by  the  sand,  then  a  fierce  desert  wind 
GknTu'r  ■'"^*^P\"  «'«"»•  Nowhere,  unless  it  be  the 
Giant  8  Causway,  Ireland,  have  I  seen  stones  laid  with 
such  mathematical  accuracy. 

In  this  land  of  contradictions  is  the  Painted  Desert, 
w.th  Its  fantas  ic  surface  of  ocherous  earth  and  varieti^ 
of  marls  rivalling  the  tints  and  colors  of  a  large  r  I'ette 

fv'th/s.  T'l""*^  ''°«^"'^'  *"^""-^'  ^^'  "Pened 
mC  fT\'!^'"'t°°^  exhausted  and  abandoned 
mines  of  the  Silver  King  and  the  Planoha  de  la  Plata 
where  lumps  of  virgin  silver  weighing  2,000  pounds  were 
discovered,  and  the  Salero,  where  in  Spanish  times  the 
padre,  who  had  charge  of  the  little  mission,  wishing  to 
entertain  with  proper  respect  his  bishop,  who  was  paying 
his  first  visit  to  the  camp,  discovered  when  the  table  was 
set  that  there  were  no  salt  cellars.  Calling  two  of  hi. 
Indian  neophytes,  he  ordered  them  to  dig  ore  from  the 
mine  and  hammer  it  into  a  solid  silver  basin,  which  he 
placed  on  the  table,  garnished  with  roses  and  ferns,  and 


162 


BY  PAIR  ASD  TBAIL. 


Dn- 


presented  to  the  bishop  when  he  was  leaving    for 
range,  his  episcopal  see. 

In  1870  the  last  herd  of  wild  horses  was  rounded  up 
in  Arizona,  and  here,  too,  corraled  like  the  horses,  and 
at  about  the  same  time,  are  the  remnants  of  the  Apaches, 
who,  with  no  weapons,  save  bows  and  arrows,  lance, 
knife  and  war  club,  defied  for  250  years  the  lighting  men 
of  Spain  and  the  United  States. 

The  Standard  Iron  Company  is  now  tunneling  earth 
near  the  Diabolo  Canyon  in  search  of  the  greatest  me- 
teor ever  heard  of  by  meteorologists.  When  this  com- 
posite visitor  struck  the  earth  it  cut  a  channel  600  feet 
deep  and  nearly  a  mile  in  length.  The  land  for  miles 
around  was,  and  is  yet,  covered  with  fragments  of  this 
star  rock.  Some  of  these  pieces  weighed  many  tons,  and 
when  broken  up  and  reduced,  ran  high  in  valuable  min- 
erals. The  size  of  this  meteor  is  said  to  be  enormous, 
and  judging  from  the  value  of  the  ore  scattered  around 
the  great  depression,  the  minerals  embosomed  in  the 
meteor  will  amount  to  many  millions  of  dollars.  Distin- 
guished mineralogists  of  Europe  and  America  have  ex- 
pressed a  wish  to  be  present  when  the  meteoric  wonder 
is  uncovered.  Here,  also,  solidly  perched  on  the  breast 
of  a  small  volcanic  hill,  is  the  only  desert  laboratory  in 
the  world.  This  hill  projects  from  the  base  of  a  rugged 
mountain  lange,  known  as  the  Tucson,  and  was  selected 
by  th(!  Spaniards  at:  a  site  on  which  to  build  a  blockhouse 
and  observatory  in  the  days  when  the  Apaches  terrified 
southern  Arizona.  From  the  crest  of  this  volcanic 
mount  one  may  sweep  a  circular  horizon  within  which 
repose  in  awful  majesty  fifteen  ranges  of  mountains, 
stretching  southward  into  Mexico,  northward  into  Cen- 
tral Arizona,  and  extending  toward  the  west  far  into 


BY  PATH  AKD  TlAtt. 


1G3 


Cahfora  a.    ^V■  h.n  tlus  circle  the  Spaniards  were  mak- 
.ng    history    when    the    states  of  the  East    were    a 
wilderness,  and  New  York  had  as  yet  no  place  on  the 
map  of  Amenca     The  monntains  and  the  desert     In 
as  they  were  when  the  Spanish  priest  Marco,  of  Ni^  a! 
in  1539,  crossed  them  on  his  way  to  the  Mo.,ui  towns  of 
Quivera.    The  vegetation  even  has  undergone  no  cCge 
for  here,  all  aronnd,  and  before  you.  are  the  giant  Z-' 
haros,  or  Candelabrnn.  cacti,  the  ocotilla.  tUe  Spanish 
dagger  plant,  with  bayonets  all  a-l,ristie,  the  palo  vt"de 
the  mesquite   pnckly  pear,  sagebrnsh.  and  aU  the  won- 
derfn    varieties  of  desert  flora  for  which  the  Arizona 
deserts  are  notorious.  -ir'^ona 

tell'^^r'.f*'""'  '"•'"'^"^  '"  *'■"  University  of  Arizona 
tells  me  there  are  ,„  Arizona  .'WOO  varieties  of  flower- 
carrying  p  ants,  and  300  different  kinds  of  grasses  AVith 
Ue  exception  of  the  verbena  and  a  few  oUiers,  al  the 
indigenous  flowers  are  odorless,  owing,  it  is  said,  to  the 
absence  of  moisture  in  the  air.  All  desert  pla;ts  are 
protected  against  the  greed  or  hunger,  or   let  us  sav 

tTot"  trT'^'n  ■"""  ""'  '"■^"-'-  ^y    'pines  T; 
thorns.    More  than  680  varieties  of  the  cactus  alone  have 
been  discovered,  catalogued  and  classified.    All  deserts 
have  a  botany  of  their  own  and  a  flora  of  infinite  p^si! 
bihties  or  value,  and  in  the  deserts  of  Arizona  have  been 
found  plants  of  great  medicinal  value,  many  of  them 
with  unique  and  interesting  characteristics.    It  is  a  very 
curious  tact  that  the  only  varieties  of  the  cactus  without 
thorns  known  to  exist  in  this  region,  are  found  growing  in 
rock  projections  and  ledges  beyond  the  reach  of  animals 
This  was  exp  amed  to  me  on  the  theory  that,  at  some  tira- 
n  the  past  this  kind  of  cactus  was  common  enough  in 
the  mountams,  but  that  gophers,  rabbits  and  other  des 


MlCfOCOfV    RESOIUTION   TBT   CHAtT 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No   7) 


III  ''^ 

^tiS.  tSi 

^l£    12^ 

tf  lis  "" 

11^ 

£   U£    yjO 

i^ 

11^  III 

^  m 

^    APPLIED  IM/GE 

16S3   Lail   Mam   ^tr««i 
RoehBaUr,   Htw   mn        U609       uy 
(716)   *a;  -  OJOO-Pfton> 
(718)   JSe  -  59aa  -Fa- 


164 


BY  PATH  AND  IB.VIL. 


ert  animals  had  long  ago  consumed  all  that  could  be 
reached.  In  "Wild  West"  books,  and  even  in  profes- 
sedly historical  novels,  one  reads  occasionally  of  this  and 
that  family  or  clan  of  Indians  perishing  of  hunger  or 
thirst.  It  is  impossible  for  a  normally  healthy  savage 
to  die  of  hunger  or  perish  from  thirst  on  the  Arizona  des- 
erts. The  white  man!  Ves,  and  often,  the  Indian  never. 
It  is  a  case  of  God  tempering  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb, 
or  fitting  the  back  to  the  burden.  Under  the  thorns  of 
every  variety  of  cactus  there  is  refreshing,  nourishing 
and  indeed,  palatable  food.  The  desert  and  mountain 
tribes  knew  this  from  immemorial  times,  and  until  they 
were  confined  to  the  reservations,  cactus  food  formed  a 
large  part  of  their  ordinary  diet.  They  had  a  way  of 
their  own  of  stripping  the  needles  from  the  plant,  reach- 
ing the  pulp  and  eating  it  cooked  or  uncooked. 

There  are  many  fruit  and  berry  bearing  cacti,  and 
these  fruits  and  berries  were  gathered  in  season,  eaten 
raw  or  boiled,  and  from  wliich  a  delicious  syrup  or  juice 
was  extracted,  and  an  intoxicating  drink,  called  "chaca," 
distilled.  The  pitayha  and  suaharo  cacti  grow  to  the 
height  of  twenty  and  thirty  feet,  and  yield,  when  prop- 
erly tapped,  from  ten  to  twenty-gallons  of  pure  drinking 
water.  All  desert  plants  contain  a  large  amount  of  mois- 
ture, and  the  professors  of  the  Carnegie  desert  labora- 
tory are  now  trying  to  find  out  how  these  desert  plants, 
especially  the  cacti,  extract  water  from  a  parched  and 
sandy  soil,  and  moisture  from  hot  air.  There  is  a  cac- 
tus, christened  by  the  early  Spaniards,  the  "barrel," 
which  is  75  per  cent  water,  and,  strange  to  say,  thrives 
best  in  hopelessly  barren  lands  in  which  no  water  is 
found  within  hundreds  of  miles,  and  on  which  no  rain 
ever  falls. 


By  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


165 


The  desert  laboratory  for  the  study  of  the  flora  of 

at  wasiungton,  and  was  founded  bv  Mr  V  v  r'„„n 

Ur   D   Trembly  MapDougal,  who  was  for  years  assist- 

MacDougal  is  now  here  in  charge  of  the  department  of 
botemcal  research.    In  its  specialty  of  purposeThere  is 

^etteTllhtd^'^'MT  ^"  ^"^'^°^«'  --o"lt  . iy 
related  to  this  desert  laboratory,  and  that  is  the  colle,.e 

of  scaence  established  lately  in  Greenland  by  the  govern! 

r  t„l°Trfl'  '"  Tf "'"  '°  arctic' regions  and 
me  study  of  the  flora  and  fauna  of  the  far  north  This 
desert  laboratory,  under  expert  botanists,  will  ncludet 
Its  cope,  the  physiographic  conditions  of  notable  inter" 
es    in  the  two  great  desert  areas  of  western  Amer  1 

rath'er '^  H  'j  *'^  ^^'""«'^*'  "'^  '"'tanisr  an™  tte Tol' 
Ind  fh'  ^°^<^«='^"t«<l  "«  the  Sonora-Nevada  desert 
and  the  Sinaloa-Chihuahua  region  of  sand.  These  two 
regions  embrace  large  sections  of  Idaho,  Utah  OregoTi 

£  a^CaS'^s'*"'    ''^^'"'^'    ^'"^°"'«'   ^^'--' 
Uon  the  beds  of  many  ancient  lakes  are  included   and 
with  them  the  yet  existing  Great  Salt  Lake.    Dr  Mac 
Dougal  informs  me  that  notable  features  in    h^s  vas 
body  are  the  Snake  river  desert  of  Idaho   the  Ralston 
sand  lands  of  Nevada,  the  sage  fields  of  Washtgt„n    he 

rr  f '  ^'  T^'"''  ^^^''^  ^«"«^'  '^^  Mojave  D!;ert 
the  Colorado  Desert,  the  Painted  Desert  in  Arizona  and 

ot  Mexico  In  the  Cahforn.as-Southern  and  Lower- 
the  desert  vegetation  and  that  of  the  coast  lands  leet 
but,  except  m  rare  instances,  never  assimilate.    I  was 


166 


BY  PATH  AND  IBAIL. 


snrprised  to  hear  from  the  distmgnished  professor,  as 
without  doubt  yon  will  be  to  read,  that  if  the  deserts  of 
the  earth  could  be  brought  into  one  area  they  would 
form  a  continent  larger  than  all  of  North  America.  The 
wonderful  and  peculiar  vegetation  of  the  deserts  has 
time  and  again  invited  and  received  the  attention  of 
learned  botanists,  but  not  until  the  founding  of  this  Car- 
negie laboratory  was  any  systematic  and  continuous 
study  made  of  desert  plant  life.  The  assistant  in  charge 
of  the  botanical  department  corresponds  with  the  famous 
botanists  of  the  world,  and  is  daily  mailing  to  and  re- 
ceiving specimens  of  desert  flowers  and  plants  from  all 
parts  of  Asia,  Africa  and  Australia. 

It  may  interest  my  readers  to  learn  that,  in  the  val- 
ley of  the  Salt  Biver,  in  Arizona,  the  United  States  gov- 
ernment reclamation  service  has  well  under  way  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  eng^eering  enterprises  for  the 
irrigation  of  desert  lands  ever  undertaken.  Before  a 
hole  was  drilled  for  the  actual  work  in  this  almost  inac- 
cessible quarter  of  the  Salt  Biver  Canyon,  a  wagon  road 
twenty-lve  miles  long  had  to  be  blasted  from  the  side 
of  the  fearful  gorge.  Fifteen  miles  of  this  road  pre- 
sented almost  insurmountable  difSculties,  for  it  had  to 
be  run  through  the  wildest  and  most  precipitous  portions 
of  the  awesome  canyons.  Then  began  the  herculean  task 
of  preparation  for  controlling  the  turbulent  waters  of 
the  river,  which  in  the  late  spring  become  a  rushing  tor- 
rent. In  a  narrow  part  of  this  canyon  the  men,  under 
expert  hydrographic  and  civil  engineers,  are  now  build- 
ing a  wall  of  solid  masonry,  which,  when  completed,  will 
rise  to  a  height  of  270  feet.  It  will  inclose  a  lake  of  stor- 
aged  water  twenty-five  miles  long  and  200  feet  deep. 
Sluices  and  canals  will  carry  water  from  this  artificial 


■I  PATH  ASD  IBAHi. 


167 


CHAPTER  XX. 

TEMPLES  OF  THE  DESERT. 

Among  all  the  mission  churches  built  by  the  Spanish 

United  States,  extending  from  the  meridian  of  San  An- 
tonio,  Te.x.  to  the  Presidio  of  San  Francisco,  and  tm- 
bracing  such  examples  as  San  Gabriel,  outsio' ■  of  Los 
Angeles  and  the  mission  church  of  San  Jose,  near  San 

bX'  „n"H  tt'^;  ''i"',  ■'""P^^"  ««™-°f  -horn  Bret 
Harte  and  Helen  Jackson  wrote  so  sympathetically- 
there  is  not  one  superior  architecturally,  and  there  are 
few  equal  to  San  Xavier  del  Bac.  the  church  of  the  gen! 
t^  Papagoes.  The  drive  from  Tucson  to  the  mission  is 
nine  miles.  To  your  left,  within  sound  of  its  gurgling 
waters,  flows  the  Santa  Cruz,  that  for  400  yeTrs  haf 

Tn  con  range  of  momitains  and  hills  rise  majesH^alT^ 
to  he  right,  and  stretch  soutliward  to  an  interm  nab  e 
distance^  Far  away  to  the  southwest-miles  and  miles 
away-the  '  Twin  Buttes,"  inflated  with  copper,  tower 
in  imperial  isolation.  Five  miles  from  TucsonT.e  rlad 
suddenly  rises,  and  at  once  the  bell-shaped  dome  ani 
he  Moorish  towers  of  the  church  of  the  Papagoes  break 
the  skj^  hne  to  the  south.    Another  mile,  a^nl  we  enter 

Ince  o7rl"'°  '""^,^'"'  "'"'"'^  ^*  "^^  ™f«^°al  disson- 
ance of  barks,  snaris  and  grbwls  from  a  yelping  pack  of 
unpedigreed  curs  of  low  estate.  The  road'wfnds' through 
and  aromid  wikiups  and  cabins,  past  the  humble  grave- 
yard where  heaves  the  turf  in  many  a  mouldering  heap 


170 


BT  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


and  where  a  forest  of  plain  wooden  crosses  records  the 
sablime  hope  and  faith  of  the  vanishing  Papago.  Before 
entering  the  church,  I  called  to  pay  my  respects  and 
tender  the  tribute  of  my  admiration  to  the  three  sisters 
of  the  community  of  St.  Joseph,  who  for  years  have  de- 
voted their  lives  to  the  mental  and  spiritual  uplifting  of 
the  Indian  children  of  the  reservation.  I  found  the  class 
rooms  clean,  a  plentiful  supply  of  blackboards  aivd  mural 
tablets,  and  the  walls  ornamented  with  sacred  and  other 
pictures.  The  children  were  almost  as  dark  as  negroes, 
their  coal-black  hair  falling  over  their  shoulders  and 
their  snake-like  eyes  piercing  and  searching  me  as  if  C 
were  an  enemy.  What  clothes  they  wore  werti  clean,  and 
I  found  them  as  intelligent  and  as  far  advanced  in  their 
elementary  studies  as  the  children  of  white  parents. 
"Sister,"  I  said,  "how  often  do  you  have  mass  here?" 

"Twice  a  month,  sir." 

"And  in  the  meantime?" 

"In  the  meantime  we  are  alone  with  the  Blessed  Sac- 
rament. ' ' 

"Oh,  the  bishop  then  permits  the  ' Reservation '  in 
your  oratory." 

"Yes,  without  the  Blessed  Sacrament  we  could  not 
live  here.  We  three  are  alone.  We  have  no  amusements, 
no  society,  and,  outside  of  ourselves,  no  companionship. 
We  do  our  own  cooking,  our  own  washing,  our  own 
scrubbing,  and  teach  these  eighty-five  children  six  hoursa 
day  and  give  them  an  hour's  religious  instruction  on 
Sunday.  We  also  teach  some  of  them  music,  and  all  of 
them  singing." 

I  shook  hands  with  these  heroic  and  estimable  ladies, 
thanked  them  for  their  courtesies,  and  as  I  passed  across 
the  "patio"  to  enter  the  church,  some  lines  from  the 


-Copyright  1.J  Uoderwood  i  Underwood,  Nw  Votk. 
PAPAOO   "WIKinp." 


■T  PATH  AND  TIUtL. 


m 


on  his  wonilBrf,,!  ^-    ■  '"^  Yaqnis  of  Sonora 

lirfMW    i,  baiel.  ™3  E,     ■''"•'»"■  "'""i  Hey  had 

gleaming  lances.     F^r  KilrltA'"" ''''*' """^ 
tHree  .ee..  teaching  a^aTrrnrg'te  !  ■■^tth": 


172 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


! 


m 


I 


Christian  religion,  and  when  about  to  leave,  marked  on 
hii  chart  the  Pima  valley  and  gave  to  it  the  name  of 
San  Francisco  Xavier  del  Bac,  perverted  by  local  usage 
into  "Son  Xavier  del  Bac."  This  intrepid  missionary 
traveled  through  Lower  Calif  urnia,  Sonora  and  Arizona, 
instructing  the  desert  Indiiuw  and  baptizing,  according 
to  flavigero,  30,(KH)  infants  and  adults.  From  1691  to 
1702  he  visited  all  the  tribes  of  these  regions,  solving 
many  interesting  problems  of  ethnology,  erecting  mis- 
sions and  collecting  vast  treasures  of  information  about 
the  land  and  its  wonderful  people,  the  Yumas,  Apaches, 
OpatcH,  Pimas  and  Zunis.  He  reached  the  Gila  in  1G94, 
and  »uid  mass  in  the  ancient  ruin,  the  "Uasa  Grande," 
which  is  yet  standing,  in  splendid  isolation,  amid  a  waste 
of  burning  sand.  In  1700  he  built  the  first  church,  and, 
according  to  his  biographer,  Ortega,  "He  used  a  light, 
porous  stone,  very  suitable  for  building." 

The  church  records  are  extant  from  1720-67,  and  show 
that  during  these  years  twenty-two  Jesuit  fathers  suc- 
cessively administered  Bac  and  neighboring  missions. 
In  1768  the  Franciscan  fathers  succeeded  the  Jesuits. 
In  that  year  Father  Garces  assumed  charge  of  this 
Pima  mission.  This  extraordinary  and  saintly  priest 
was  one  of  the  great  men  of  these  early  days.  In  his 
quest  for  perishing  souls  he  visited  all  the  tribes  of  Ari- 
zona, crossing  deserts,  scaling  mountains  and  enduring 
famine,  thirst  and  insult.  He  mapped,  charted  and 
named  mountains,  rivers  and  Indian  settlements.  He 
took  latitudes  and  longitudes,  and  was  the  first  white 
man  to  hcve  reached  the  Grand  Canyon  from  the  west 
and  give  it  a  specific  name.  His  diary  or  the  itinerary  of 
his  travels  was  translated  into  English  last  year  by  that 
eccentric,  but  honest,  bigot,  Elliott  Coues.     With  Mr. 


■Y  PATH  A»D  TRAIL. 


173 


ConeH    u»tone    topographic  and  invaluable  l  .tes    the 
tio7*    i     .r'""*'  '°  ''"  ^•"'""'«'-  "  «  splendid  ;ddi 
On  thM'°?'T';'""  '""""'™  "'  ""«  Southwest 

nowyla  1  ""^r."  °'  ''"'  ^""'""="'"'>  Conception- 
Tbl  It  /  "  i""^'""  "P""'"*  "««!"»'  the  Spaniard. 
The  cornerstone  of  the  present  beautiful  church  of  the 

^n^TT!'  """'  '"'''  ''^  ""«  ^-anciscan  fathers  in  1783 
•nd  the  date.  "1797,"  still  le,.„le  over  the  door    Lordf' 

croft  cilstr"f't-  '""' '''"°""'  "«''"'  H  bI": 
croft    calls  the  church  a  "umRnificent  structure  '-  and 

^r:;         .    ?:  '°''"  """  -^'«'''<'<'  '"•oke  aw  y  from  her 
allegiance  to  the  mother  country  and  decla       1,.,=!^/ 
mdependent  republic,  chaos  re^.  a^i    .ne    fltw" 
were  compelled  by  the  force  of'Tirc'u^lnes  to  ab" 

don  their  missions  in  Arizona     Th»  Pi™.       j  r, 
convert     s,.„,,,^„.,^-,,Xh^^^^^^^^^^^ 

day  and  for  years,  m  fact  until  the  return  of  a  priest  a  1 
pointed  by  the  Bishop  of  Durango,  said  the  beads  Ln^ 

ZT'f  .  i"""  '""''''°»  ^^""^  sadlv  the  wear  and 

L  a^eV'rtar-*-^  *"  "'^^  '^  nie,ancirr"u!n 

toriarwiirii: ' "  'r.-  r"^''  ^"'^  --i-tiou.,  his. 

and  the  other  saintly  and  heroic  priest;  and  mar.vrs 


174 


BY  PATH  AND  TKAIL. 


I 


upon  the  now  historic  ruins  known  as  the  Casa  Grande. 
I  have  once  or  twice  mentioned  the  name  of  Father 
Ensehio  Kino,  a  distinguished  missionarj-  and  a  heroic 
character,  who  merits  more  than  an  incidental  reference 
in  a  book  of  travel,  or  in  a  history  of  Northern  Mexico,  or 
of  the  Southwest  of  the  United  States. 

Adolph  Bandelier,  Charles  F.  Lummis,  and  that  rado- 
fatigable  historical  burrower  and  delver  into  musty  man- 
uscripts, the  lute  Dr.  Elliott  Cones,  have  settled  for  all 
time,  that  neither  Coronado  nor  any  one  of  his  men  ever 
saw  or  heard  of  the  "Casas  Grandes-'-the  great  build- 
ings of  Southern  Arizona.    The  Jesuit  priest,  who  was 
the  first  white  man  to  see  and  explore  the  mysterious 
building— was  Father  Eusebio  Kino,  one  of  the  most  il- 
lustrious and  heroic  men  that  ever  trod  the  Southwest, 
if  not  the  American  continent.    The  record  of  the  trav- 
els and  missionary  labors  of  this  magnificent  priest  are 
to  be  found  in  Bancroft's  History  of  Arizona  and  Sonora, 
in  Elliott  Cones'  "On  the  Trail  of  a  Spanish  Pioneer, 
in  the  "Diario"  of  Juan  Mateo  Mange,  a  military  officer 
who  was  with  Padre  Kino  in  some  of  his  "entradas,"' 
or  expeditions,  and  in  the  first  volume  of    the    second 
series  of  the  work  entitled  "Docnmentos  para  lo  His- 
torio  de  Mexico,"  printed  in  Mexico  City  m  1854.    Lieu- 
tenant Mange,  in  his  ooumal,  writes  of    Father    Kino, 
whom  he  knew  intimately:    "He  was  a  man  of  wonder- 
ful talents,  an  astronomer,  a  mathematician,  and  cosmo- 

Before  I  relate  the  incidents  associated  with  the  dis- 
covery of  the  now  famous  ruins,  the  Casas  Grandes,  by 
Father  Kino,  let  me  hurriedly  record  something  of  the 
life  and  history  of  this  remarkable  priest  and  model  mis- 
sionary. 


BY  PATH  AHD  TBAII^  jyg 

nonnced  it,  Kino,  was  bom  at  Trent,  Austrian  Tvrol  in 

isir'  f*"-  ^^  rr """«'  -'^«°"  o"  the  fa° ;;: 

natrn^r*^  r"^'  ^''*''''  Martin-Martin.    After  grad- 
natng  with  honors,  particulariy  in  mathematics   Kino 
declined  the  chair  of  mathematics  in  the  Univer;ity  o? 
Bavana,  tendered  to  him  by  the  Duke  of  Bavaria     Turn 
Mg  aside  from  the  promise  of  a  distinguished  future  ,n 

fp  Ic^'onT*^"'  *"'  ^'^'"'^  ''  '''^-  -1  -''«"  f  " 
?««n  ?..        ^*  ^'"■*'«°  ^i^'io""-    Arriving  in  Mexico  in 

friend  v7''''  °'  ''*"*°°'^  '=°'"^''  "«  was^rawn  into  a 

atv^C      "•^^P^'"^!'  astronomer,  then  in  Mexico 

ShaSrHr'"'  ^?-*°™-    ^'^  -^"'arkable  familiarity 

terns  dl™      r.  ^'  ^'"^  '""'^'^'^8'  "f  '•■«  ^ol^-  «y- 
terns,  determmed  his  assignation  to  duty  in  Lower  Cali- 

Otondnt'  ""Tr^"*'    '""^■"^    ""^    A<J^-a>    I'ido  e 
Utondo's  expedition  of  1683 

Returning  from  Lower  California,  he  was  assigned 
by  hs  ecclesiastical  superior  to  the  mission  of  Wa 

bt^  i  lesrh/r^^f  T"""""  ^"^°--  On  Derm.' 

oer  16,  1687,  he  left  the  Jesuit  college  at  Guadalaiara 
and  traveling  by  burro  and  on  foot,  arrived  in  Sonora 
where  he  founded  the  mission  of  "Our  Lady  of  Sor' 
rows,"  which  remained  his  headquarters  until  Ldeah" 
Now  begins  his  wonderful  career 

Leaving  his  Indian  mission  in  charge  of  an  assistant 
pnest,  he  struck  out  for  the  Mayo  hmiLg  ground   !„] 
entering  the  valley  of  the  Bio  Magdalena,  preached  to  the 
Mayos,  and  gathering  them  in,  founded  tke  pueblo  „r  vU 
^ge  settlement  of  St.  Ignatius.    He  now  swung  tow    i 

or  ht.  Joseph  of  Humoris,  now  known  as  Imuris. 


176 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


Beturning  to  his  mission  of  Our  Lady  of  Sorrows,  he 
waited  for  the  coming  of  Father  Juan  Maria  de  Salva- 
tierra,  the  superior  and  visitador,  or  visitor  of  the  Indian 
missions  of  Mexico.  This  was  the  Father  Salvatierra 
who  established  the  "Pious  Fund"  for  the  California 
Indians,  and  who  afterward  opened  the  mission  to  the 
Digger  Indians  i.iid  became  known  as  the  Apostle  of 
Lower  California. 

A  few  days  after  the  arrival  of  Salvatierra,  the  two 
priests  set  out  on  a  missionary  itinerary,  visiting  and 
preaching  to  the  tribes  of  northern  Sonora,  till  they 
came  to  Cocaspera,  near  Nogales,  where  they  separated; 
Salvatierra  returning  by  Our  Lady  of  Sorrows  to  Guad- 
alajara. 

Father  Kino  tarried  for  some  time  at  Cocaspera,  in- 
structing the  Indians,  and  early  in  May,  1691,  started  on 
his  historic  desert  journey  to  the  Santa  Cruz  valley, 
where  he  preached  to  the  Pimas  and  founded  the  pueblo 
and  mission  of  San  Xavier  del  Bac. 

To  describe  the  fatigues  and  hardships  of  a  journey 
in  those  days  from  Nogales  to  Tucson,  to  record  the 
varied  and  very  interesting  interviews  and  experiences 
with  the  tribes,  many  of  whom  had  never  before  seen 
a  white  man,  to  relate  the  hardships  and  trials  of  the 
great  missionary,  would  put  too  severe  a  tax  on  my  read- 
ers, so  I  hurry  on  to  the  Casas  Grandes. 

In  1694  Lieutenant  Juan  Mateo  Mange,  nephew  of 
Petriz  de  Crusate,  ex-governor  of  New  Mexico,  was  com- 
missioned to  accompany  Father  Kino  on  his  visits  to 
the  Indian  tribes,  and  on  his  exploring  expeditions,  and 
to  report  in  writing  what  he  saw  and  learned.  Mange 
joined  the  great  priest  at  his  mission  of  Our  Lady  of 
Sorrows  on  February  7,  1694;  they  crossed  the  Sierra 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


177 


del  Comedio,  and  on  the  15th  reached  the  coast,  first  of 
white  men  from  Pimeria  Alta-from  the  west^to  look 

ul7''?f!'V^''  °^  "'^  S'*"'  «°'^-    A'  Turbutana, 
Mange  left  the  priest  for  a  time,  and  went  up  the  Col- 

llij-''"  *°^"°'=>>eria  named  Cups,  so  called  from 
a  smoking,  rocky  cave  in  the  neighborhood.    Ketuming 

t'lT,  f""-!*  '"''""""'•  ''"°«^°8  --=  of  fa^ouf 
t^e  r„  .  '^t°°  *'■'  '"""'^  °^  ^  "^«^  «°t"in«  into 
Kfno  r  *"'  °l  ^ri"^  '^'  Immaculate  Conception,  as 
Kmo  christened  it.  This  was  the  first  intimation  the 
Spaniards  had  of  these  remarkable  buildings.  The  party 
now  returned  to  the  mission  of  Our  Lady  of  Sorrows 
Sonora.  While  here,  some  Indians,  Pimas  from  San 
Xavier,  on  the  Santa  Cruz,  Arizona,  came  on  a  visit  to 
the  priest,  who  questioned  them  on  the  existence  of  the 
pre-historic  rums  near  the  Gila  river.    They  informed 

dZrt  b  /'n;  "°°'"'"^  ^""^  ""«  standL;  on™he 
desert,  but  of  their  origin  they  knew  nothing 

In  October,  1694,  Kino,  accompanied  and  settled  Fran- 

mur^'Z'  h  "t  "t""'''"""'-^  ^'  C'"'"^''-  '-here  he  was 
murdered  by  the  Yumas,  April  2,  1695.  Leaving  Saeta 
at  tins  mission,  Father  Kino  now  set  out  alone  on  an 
expedition  to  the  Casas  Grandes.    He  reached  the  Gila 

30,  entered  the  region  of  the  ruins,  and  in  the  largest 

thVM«^^''\r  '°*^'  °^'"''^  "P  '^'  Holy  Sacrifice  of 
the  Mass.    Mange,  on  page  25  of  his  published  report, 

It?  T^-^"'"'  '^'  ^^°^'  *^^'°^'  '">''  '^-to^'^  grea 
praise  on  Kino. 

The  priest  was  the  first  white  man  who  saw  and  ac- 

r2  'tv  ""'!?  '^"  """  ^'"""^  pre-Columbian 
mns.  This  wonderful  priest  tramped  the  valley  of  the 
Santa  Cruz  to  th»  Gila.    Passing  down  the  Gila  to  Us 


178 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


: 


mouth,  after  exploring  the  country,  he  retraced  his 
steps,  penetrating  the  land  north  of  the  Gila  river  for 
gome  distance,  and  ascending  the  Salt  river  and  other 
northern  branches  of  the  Gila.  His  explorations  did  not 
end  here.  Proceeding  east,  he  explored  the  valley  of  the 
San  Pedro  and  its  branches,  then  the  Gila  to  the  Mim- 
bres,  and  on  to  the  Bio  Grande  and  the  Messila  valley. 
He  went  from  Tuma,  crossed  the  Colorado  desert,  and 
traced  the  Colorado  river  to  its  mouth.  He  visited  sixty- 
three  tribes,  sub-tribes  and  families,  studying  the  wars, 
customs,  traditions,  folk-lore  and  habits  of  the  Indians. 
He  founded  missions,  built  churches,  made  maps  and 
tracings,  took  observations  and  left  us  a  mass  of  valua- 
ble information  on  the  botany,  geology  and  temperature 
of  the  country.  His  map  was  in  his  time,  and  long  after 
his  death,  the  best  delineation  of  Sonora,  southern  Ari- 
zona and  the  gulf  coast  of  Southern  California.  His 
life  was  an  unparalleled  record  of  devotion,  heroism  and 
dauntless  courage.  Of  him  we  may  repeat  what  Bacon 
wrote  of  Pius  V.,  to  whom  Christendom  is  indebted  for 
the  victory  of  Lepanto:  "I  am  astonished  that  the  Bo- 
man  church  has  not  yet  canonized  this  great  rnan." 

On  February  5,  1702,  Father  Kino,  accompanied  by 
Father  Qouzalez  (the  same, missionary  who  was  with 
Kino  on  his  excursion  to  the  mouth  of  the  Colorado), 
started  on  a  missionary  expedition  to  the  Gila  Indians, 
and  went  from  tribe  to  tribe,  till  he  arrived  at  the  mis- 
sion of  St.  Ignatius  on  the  Colorado  river.  Here  Father 
Gonzalez,  worn  out  with  hardship  and  illness,  lay  down 
and  died.  After  giving  Christian  burial  to  his  priestly 
companion,  the  great  priest  returned  to  his  mission  in 
Sonora.  His  report  of  his  entrada,  or  expedition,  bears 
he  date  April  2, 1702.    He  never  again  saw  the  Colorado 


BI  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


179 


vpTr,       .!r"'"«  *°  *f'"*  ''"J-  '"<'«^  the  weight  Of 
years,  and  the  wear  and  tear  of  missionary  travel  and 

TeZr  "''""■-  ^''  '"'''  ''''•  -  "  --e  "rs  mo°t 
extended  journey,  was  made  toward  the  north,  durine 
the  autumn  of  1706.  He  left  his  mission  late  in  bctober 
and  swinging  around  by  way  of  Kemedios,  made  his 
wonderful  tour  to  the  Santa  Clara  mountains,  preach! 
ing  to  and  evangelizing  the  tribes  on  his  waj-  From 
he  summit  of  Santa  Clara  he  looked  out  for  the  as^ 
time  on  the  waters  of  the  Gulf  of  California,  noting  the 

land,  and  fixing  for  all  time  its  peninsular  character 
This  was  the  last,  long,  c.rtnly  pilgrimage  of  the  greai 

iaZr';^^"""  ""'""'"'''y'  -'■-^  explorations^and 
fearless  endurance  on  behalf  of  perishing  souls,  lift  him 
unto  a  plane  of  canonization  and  a  pedestal  of  fame.    He 

few  remaining  years,  training  his  swarthy  converts  in 
decency  and  clean  living,  making  short  visits  to  neU 
boring  pueblos,  and  adding  by  his  heroism  and  saintly 
hfe  another  name  to  the  catalogue  of  brilliant  and  won 
tht^l  f  °;°r^^h°ffl  the  worid  and  the  cliurch  are  in- 
debted  to  the  Society  of  Jesus.  He  died  in  1711,  aged 
70,  having  surrendered  thirty  of  these  seventy  years  to 
the  saving  and  civilizing  of  the  Sonora    and    Arizona 

"aTlndial  '*""*'  "^  •"^^**"''"^  "•=«'  '"^  ^ 
Let  us  hope  that  some  day  a  Catholic  Parkman  will 
appear  gifted  with  his  marvelous  fascination  of  styl^ 
his  tireless  industry,  his  command  of  language,  withVn 
aTCation  of  the  supernatural,  and  an'Tdmi™"  n  o? 
Baintly  asceticism,  which  the  Harvard  master  had  not, 


180 


BY  PATE  ASD  TBAIL. 


and  do  for  the  dauntless  Spanish  n-'ssionaries  of  Lower 
California,  the  coast  and  the  SontLwest,  what  Parkman 
dfd  for  the  French  missionary  priests  of  Canada  and 
western  New  York,  when  he  bequeathed  to  us  his  immor- 
tal "Jesuits  of  North  America." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

A  MIBACIj;  or  NATUBE 

that  offers  to  the  analyst  Int-  !  ^  ""eroscopist,  or 
exaMiaatioB,  than  £  etht  'Vr""'""*  '^''"^<^^^  for 
in  northe.st;rn  LLo  Jt„l*'°  f^  n"  ™'^^  °^  ^'"■'1 
Here  nature  exultsTn  ll  T  f  *''"  ^^'^^^'^  forest. 

ve.ou.and%:X;  rSe'r^'^^'  '"  ■""- 
achievements  transeendinTLo  .•  ™"™"'""'"'«'  i" 
bilities  of  science  HeteVh'f  I  "  ?'  *'^  '"'^^'- 
the  days  before  man  was'uDon  th  !lf '  "■""'  ^^"  '° 
they  lie  to-day.  with  shaL^n^  !,""*^  *"  ••■""■"  «">«- 
bark  and  eel.U'lfriS'l^r^^'''  ^'^ 
everything  the  same  save  thatTlont  Jh  .  ^^■^'  """^ 
tree  and  jrives  to  if  it!  ,  !    '"''^  constitutes  a 

miles  around  the  lindtT  T-^"  '""^'-  Here,  for 
which  ask  bu  the  touch  ofi7l-T''  ^""''''''^  ^'^-l^' 
Milton's  "firmament  of    L'^  -  "' '"  "^""^"^^ 

main  with  us  to  la  i^J^^JT)""'"  '"'^^  '^ 
--^theevan«elK?^i-^-^- 

the"s:°  s:  :nrrr!r<^?r  sr-t""-  ^- 

their  fruitless  expedition  in  ^uest  of  r-'EVo'^'/^^ 
the  gilded  man-and  told  of  thl         !         Dorado"- 

monstrous  creations  they  hid  »  n'''""'  *'''"«^  ^'''l 

the  disappearing  rivers  the  LT~/''*  ''^^'  "'  P''«''- 

men  with  tails,  theWonsth/f     T  '""''''"'  *■>« 

-e  their  name  to  S^:f-rtl::::rS: 


182 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


world  marveled,  but  believed.  Yet  when  Andres  Do- 
rantes  and  Alonzo  Maldonado  returning  after  years  ol 
wandering  in  the  desert  and  mountain  lands  of  south- 
western America,  recorded  the  existence  of  a  great  forest 
they  had  visited,  where  precious  stones  of  jasper  and 
onyx  strewed  the  ground,  and  where  trees  of  agate  and 
camelian,  b'own  down  by  a  mighty  wind,  encumbered 
the  earth,  there  was  an  uppricking  of  ears  among  the 
learned  men  of  Madrid,  then  a  wagging  of  heads  and 
finally  loud  and  incredulous  laughter.  As  well  ask  them 
to  believe  in  the  existence  of  a  herd  of  cattle  suspended 
in  mid-air,  frozen  into  rigidity  and  retaining  their  shapes 
and  outlines.  Yet  the  forest  was  here  and  la  here  now, 
unch-n(^ed  and  unchangeable. 

In  the  memorial  to  congress,  adopted  in  1895,  by  the 
legislative  assembly  of  Arizona,  requestmc  that  Chal- 
cedony Forest  be  made  a  national  park,  the  area  of  the 
forest  is  defined  to  be  "ten  miles  square,  covered  with 
trunks  of  agatized  trees,  some  of  which  measure  over 
200  feet  in  length,  and  from  seven  to  ten  feet  in  diam- 
eter "  In  this  official  statement  we  have  the  limits  of 
the  wonderful  region  accurately  defined,  and  the  mate- 
rial of  the  trees  recorded. 

I  have  seen  the  petrified  trees  of  Yellowstone  Park, 
some  of  them  yet  standing,  the  stone  trees  of  Wyoming, 
and  those  of  the  Calistoga  Grove  of  California,  but  the 
petrified  rcpon  of  Arizona  is  the  only  place  in  the  world 
where  the  trees  are  in  such  number  as  to  merit  the  name 
of  a  forest.  In  delicacy  of  veining,  in  brilliancy  and  va- 
riety of  coloring,  they  outclass  all  other  petrifications. 
But  Professor  Tolman,  the  geologist  of  the  University 
of  Arizona,  tells  me  there  is  another  notable  distinction 
which  places  this  forest  of  chalcedony  in  a  class  by  itself. 


8T  PATH  A»D  TBAIL.  jgg 

Profe.jSr;  wh^n  flS  "rtre""  '""'  ^'^ 
beginning  of  creation.  I  am  yTfa  Chri.H  "''"^J'T^ 
am  ,ati.fied,  die  in  my  beW  i^  r«£w  '."""^ '''"'  ^ 
in  arehaeobgy  and  Zll^Ti      'delation.    My  studiea 

est  goes  far  baolr  int„  m         •  ""*  -^"zoaa  for- 

TnassfcfomatTon  Therf?'"'*'  ^'^  P™*""""  *<>  «>« 
therefore  mTnTSmo^/of'yLr-  "  ^'^^  ^"*''>'^*^  " 

def  aVi^ppt^^rmTlet  'T'"^  '^^  ^^^  — 
man  named  Adam  TTnn„.  •^'■f*" /ears  ago  there  was  a 
Fe  railroad  andThp^.' 7^°.  ^"^  ^^^"'^  '^e  Santa 

due  north  oS  flSVnd    h  ^  <^  ^^  """<»  «  ^t-^tion 

Natnral  Brid^  th"™  It  tt  ^'"  ''""'  *'" 

compUment  tTkr  Ad^mW  ""  "^  Adamana,  in 

bonor  of  conLSgitl^-^^^'SrstTh/f"  *"; 

between  the  silliol  Ke  NaSl  *B^^^^^^^    ^'f  «r. 
wagon  and  struck  «nr«..  *l  ^ndge,  we  left  the 

disappeared  mwy  years  Sr^^'J'''''^'  ^''''P'^  ''"'^ 

the  momitains  oTiS    A^n  ""t  ®'"'°'"''^  ""^^'-^ 

tered  the  tribal  ^Z^.  wh?™""^*  ^''^  ^^  ^«  «°- 

«ecnmnlation  of^ver  «^;.  """'  ''**"  "8°  »  ^"'t 

oiaiion  or  silver  and  copper  ornaments,  of  agate 


184 


BT  PATH  UIV  TBAOi. 


.pearheads,  arrow  tips  of  jaspor  and  obsidian  and  bean- 
tStd  pottery  was  nnearthed.    These  were  bnned  with 
the  dead,  whose  bones  had  wasted  to  dust  many  years  be- 
fore the  white  vandals  had  rifled  the  graves     The  p^ 
historic  buildings  are  now  a  confused  mass  of  sun-dned 
brick  and  sandstone,  but  when  Mulhansen  -vas  here  sixty 
years  ago.  the  divisionary  lines  of  300  houses  or  room, 
were  tmeable.  and  a  few  feet  of  a  wal  Bta"dmg_When 
the  exploring  party  for  the  Pacific  railroad  Pa««e<l  !>"« 
in  1853,  it  was  said  thai  traces  of  unique  pictographs  or 
symbolic  writings  yet  remained  on  the  face  of  a  neigh- 
boring  cliff.    A  little  to  the  west  of  Chalcedony  Park  are 
the  remains  of  another  abandoned  village.    A  few  scat- 
tered  huts  are  still  nearly  intact,    unique,    gtost-like, 
alone,  milike  anything  found  elsewhore  upon  the  earthy 
The  material  ent-  ing  into  their  construction  i,  like 
unto  that  of  which  the  New  Jerusalem  of  the  Apocalypse 
is  built,  for  "ihe  building  of  the  walls  thereof  are  of 
jasper,  and  the  fomidations  adorned  with  all  manner  of 

^'Thrancient  builders  selected  silicified  logs  of  uniform 
Bize  for  their  dwellings,  and,  with  adobe  and  precious 
chips  of  Chalcedony,  chinked  the  valuable  timbers.  Never 
did  prince  or  millionaire  choose  more  beautiful  or  more 
imperishable  material  for  even  a  .ingle  ^0°™  f^  ^' 
palace  than  the  trunks  of  these  trees  which  stood  erect 
aees  before  the  first  man  saw  the  setting  sun. 

When  I  entered  the  wonderful  forest  and  ascended 
an  elevation  from  which  I  could  command  my  surround- 
ings, I  experienced  a  feeling  of  disappointment.  From 
magazine  articles  and  letters  of  travelers,  I  was  led  to 
believe  that  this  mystic  region  was  a  dream  of  scenic 
joy    I  confess  I  was  keyed  up  too  high  by  these  descnp- 


■I  PATH  AWD  TBAIL. 


185 


men  '  Thl  /„H  h  "  "V"  ""°"^  ^'"^  -"^  '"^i™- 
feet  above  sea  level  and  cut  up  into  ..mail  mesas  or  t;We 
levels,  mto  „.any  ridges,  buttes,  gulches  and  miniature 

into  a  wmd.ng  clmnnel,  is  the  Lithodendron  (stone 
r  ver),  or,  more  correctly,  creek.    The  valley  of  this  river 

Zr^  """-'«'  depression  whose  banks  and  slopes  are 

of  tne  ^tnfled  forest,  and  the  section  known  as  Chal 
l^Z^  .^'"■''-  ^-"^  "'"^  -'-'J'Wng  and  the  position  of 
evenrtlun^.  are  startling.  On  the  knolls,  .purs  and  iso- 
ated  elevations,  m  the  hollows,  ravines  and  gulches  on 
ber^ef "  «  '"'  '°T'r'''  '"'^  "P  -  'f  skidded  by  C° 
he  the  silicfied  logs  in  greatest  confusion.  Everj-where 
w.th  un^mted  prodigality,  the  ground  is  so^  wTh 
gems,  with  chips,  splinters  and  nodules  of  agate,  jasper 
and  camehan  of  all  shapes  and  sizes,  and  displa  ing^l 
the  colors  of  the  lunar  rainbow. 

Buried  in  the  sand  hills  rising  above  the  valley  to  the 
west  are  petrified  logs  squaring  three  and  four  feet 
at  the  butts  which  protrude  from  the  beetling  bluffs 
Curiously  enough,  specimens  from  these  trunks  are  noi 
of  agate  color,  but  of  a  soft  blending  of  brown  and  gray 
and  absolutely  opaque,  while  chips  from  the  trees  in  the 
I!  17  ''^^'^■'^'"eent,  and  many  of  them  transparent 
as  glass  The  state  of  mineralization  in  which  many  of 
these  valley  trees  are  found  almost  lifts  them  into  ma- 

thvl     7"°'  ".f  P''"°"^  ^"'°*«'  "P-'^'  jasper,  ame- 
thysts  and  emeralds.  One  of  the  most  e.xtraord'  ^ 

tures  of  this  marvelous  region  is  the  Natural  h     ),..    an 


186 


BT  PATH  AKD  TXAIL. 


•gatized  tree,  spanning  b  miniature  canyon  twenty-live 
feet  deep  and  thiHy  feet  wide,  on  which  a  man  may 
I    ely  croM.   The  tree  is  in  an  exc.Uent  itate  of  preser- 
V.     >n  and  shows  no  marks  of  sand  abrasion;    it  lies 
diagonally  across  the  ravine  and  measures  a  span  of 
forty-four  feet.    Frrm  end  to  butt  the  tree  is  110  feet 
long  and,  as  with  all  the  stone   logs   of   this   quarter 
of  the  forest,  there  are  no  branches  adhering  to  top  or 
body.    So  much  of  the  material  of  the  forest  retains  iU 
natural  color,  bark  and  shape,  and  so  true  is  the  piling 
that  looking  on  them  one  would  be  inclined  to  believe 
that  some  settler,  who  was  clearing  the  land,  had  left  for 
dinner  and  might  at  any  moment  return  and  flre  ♦he  pile. 
Another  very  singular  and  as  yet  unexplained  phenome- 
non are  the  rings  or  divisionary   markings   encircling 
many  of  the  logs  from  end  to  end.    These  ring  marks 
girdle  the  trunks  every  eighteen  inches  and  do  not  vary 
the  eighth  of  an  inch.    Either  by  the  disintegration  of 
the  mesa  or  by  torrential  floods  the  trees  have  been  car- 
ried down  from  higher  levels  and  in  the  moving  suffered 
many  fractures,  some  of  them  being  broken  into  frag- 
ments.   Now  all  these  logs,  measuring  from  twenty  to 
ninety  feet,  broke  transversely  .ind  every  time  the  break 
TO8  on  the  ring.    How  these  rings  were  formed  remains 
to  this  day  an  unsolved  problem.    The  material  of  these 
trees  is  so  hard  that  some  years  ago  an  abrasive  com- 
pany of  Chicago  made  preparations  to  grind  the  logs 
into  emery.    Their  plant  was  brought  from  Chicago  to 
Adamana,  where  it  is  now  falling  to  pieces  from  mat  and 
neglect.    In  answer  to  my  enquiry  why  it  was  not  set  up, 
I  was  told  that  a  Csnadian  company,  at  about  the  same 
time,  began  at  Monti-eal  the  manufacture  of   abrasive 
■and  and  lowered  the  price  of  the  material  below  the 


BT  PATH  ASD  T»A1L. 


187 


point  wher^it  would  pay  to  grind  up  the  tree..  Out  of 
th.8  ngBt«ed  wood  have  been  manufactured  mo.t  beauti- 
ful  table  top,,  mantels,  clock  cases,  pedestals  and  orna- 
mental article..  But  the  cost  of  sawing,  chiseling  and 
pol.shmg  make  the  goods  very  expensive.  To  give  you 
an  example.  When  Tiffany's  workmen  started  to  saw  off 
a  scKjtioD  from  one  of  these  logs  to  form  n  pedestal  for 
the  silver  vase  of  the  Bartholdi  presentation,  they  began 
with  a  s>i.inch  saw  of  Sheffield  steel  aided  with  diamond 
dust.  Sawing  eight  hours  a  day,  they  were  five  days 
cutting  through  a  four-foot  log  which  wore  their  six-inch 
Mw  to  a  ribbon  one-half  inch  wide.  Although  there  are 
millions  of  tons  of  the  petrified  material  scattered  around 
this  region,  the  lust  of  gain  and  accnmuiation,  which  be- 

forest  to  the  naked  desert  if  congress  had  not  intervened 
to  save  It.  For  forty  years'  despoilers  have  been  rifling 
the  land,  gathering  and  shipping  the  silicified  wood  to 
the  east.  Much  has  boen  sold  to  museums  and  private 
collectors,  but  much  more  has  been  shipped  to  dealers 
and  manufacturers.     Visitors  to  the  park    nmv   carry 

ZmJ  -^^T  "  '"^  'P*""'^"^'  '^"t  ""  dealing  or 
trafficking  m  the  precious  material  is  now  permitted 


=  1 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE  PBE-HISTOBIC  HUIN 

Pima  women  make  waterproof   bask;ts.     ArCd     he 

savage  and  witha.  picture.,;e*:nf  ^2  '  S 
nating  The.r  rugged  sides  are  torn,  gashed  and  cut  to 
pieces,  their  cones  now  cold  and  deak,^stand  sharp  Ld 
clear  against  a  sky  of  opalescent  clearness  In  hZ, 
past,  ,n  years  geologically  not  very  remote  the  San  so 
hese  towering  hills  were  red  with  fire  and  thefr  pelks 
ablaze  with  volcanic  flame  P^''' 

Gazing  on  them  from  afar  you  experience  a  sensation 
of  awe,  a  consciousness  of  the  earth's  great  age  domT 
nates  you  and  down  the  avenues  of  time  dow^Throul" 
the  ages  there  con..s  to  you  the  portent  us  ^e  Hon  S 


190 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


the  inspired  author  of  Ecclesiasticue :    "Is  there  any- 
thing whereof  it  may  be  said:  see,  this  is  new;  it  hath 
been  already  of  old  time,  which  was  before  us."    Almost 
within  gunshot  of  where  I  sit. repose  in  solitary  isola- 
tion a  group  of  buildings,  the  despair  of  antiquarians  and 
historically  very  old.    The  central  building  is  a  large 
edifice,  whose  adobe  walls  havf  lesisted  for  many  centu- 
ries the  erosion  of  time,  the  abrasion  of  drifting  sand 
and  the  wear  and  tear  of  torrential  storms.    This  is  the 
now  historic  "Casa  Grande"  or  Great  House,  so  named 
by  the  early  Spanish  explorers.    Its  walls  are  almost 
oriented  to  the  four  cardinal  points,  built  of  adobe  blocks 
of  unequal  length  and  laid  with  symmetry  in  a  cement 
of  the  same  composition  as  the  walls.  This  famous  group 
of  ruins  rests  on  a  raised  plateau,  about  two  miles  to 
the  south  of  the  Gila  river,  in  the  midst  of  a  thick  growth 
of  mesquite.    Many  of  the  buUdings,  from  two  to  four 
stories  high,  are  now  roofed  and  kept  in  repair  by  the 
Umted  States  government,  and  are  included  in  the  pro- 
tected  governmental   reserves.   Around   the   principal 
buildings  are  heaps  of  ruins  and  many  acres  of  shapeless 
debris,  all  that  remain  of  an  ancient  Indian   town   or 
pueblo  that  was  abandoned  long  before  the  daring  Span- 
iard, Francisco  de  Coronado,  in  1540,  entered  Arizona. 
It  was  through  this  wild  and  mystic  region  that  Padre 
Marcos  made  his  weird  expedition  in  1539  in  quest  of  the 
elusive  seven  cities  of  Cibola.    In  his  report  of  his  ex- 
plorations he  mentions  the  great  buildings,  then  known 
to  the  Pima  tribe  by  its  Indian  name  of  "  Chichilitical. " 
Here,  too,  after  wandering  over  thousands  of  miles  of 
mountains  and  barren  deserts,  passed  the  daring  adven- 
turers and  explorers,  Pedro  de  Tehan,  Lopez  de  Car- 
dines  and  Cabezza  de  Vaca,  the  solitary  survivors  of  Nar- 


1 

1 

1 

Copyright  by  Underwood  &  Underwood,  New  York. 

KUIN8.  ANCIENT  AND  MODERN. 


BY  PATH  AND  IBAIL. 


191 


month  of  the  Suwanee  river,  one  hundred  years  before 
De  Soto  crossed  the  Mississippi.  After  them  came  the 
fear  ess  and  saintly  missiomiry,  Padre  Ensebio  Ktao,  so 
Si  "oflt^^  V\-«a.  the  early  historian  of  c'ali! 

539  orwh.n*r°'"'°^/^  '^^  ^P^"^^''^  "«  e«riy  a« 
of  the Tol  t^  ^""^^  ^°'  '"■°'^*°  ^°^  the  fomidation. 
of  the  town  whose  walls  even  then  were  an  indistingnish- 

ttn      t?,°rlr''  "\«  "f'^hboring  tribes  had  no^a<«- 

dned  brick  have  resisted  the  ravages  of  decay  and  the 
elements  for  500  years  of  known  time 
These  mysterious  people  carried  from  the  Gila  Eiver 

10  feet  deep   and  converted  the  barren  sands  around 

hem  into  fertile  gardens.    The  word  "pueblo"  in  Span 

hrohf  '•  "^''^  ^  ""'^'' ''"'  ™  ^^^''^^  ethnography 

tyt  of  th7f  "/'"'''''  significance  from  the  ptuHar 

8  yle  of  the  structures  or  groups  of  buildings  scattered 

wa T'unii  WW  1  '"'V^^r;^  ^""'^^^  -•'-  -^t-tS 

Tm  f?nnf  *-^^\°lr?  huildings  fomid  outside  the  north- 
em  front  ers  of  Mexico,  Arizona  and  New  Mexico  The 
most  fertile  valleys  of  these  regions  were  oc  upTed  by  a 
semi-crnhzed  and  agricultural  race.  The  face  If  these 
lands  was  dotted  with  buildings  five  and  six  stories  h  gh 
held  m  common  by  many  families,  and  in  many  instances' 
the  houses  and  villages  were  superior  to  those  fth: 
TwT  f  ^"'^"'  *°^^-  ^•'^y  ^«e  huilt  for  defense 
cases  difficult  At  least  a  century,  perhaps  many  centu- 
nes,  before  the  coming  of  the  Spaniards,  the  decline  be- 
gan and  continued  with  the  certainty  of  i  decree  of  fate 


192 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL.' 


until  but  a  mere  remnant  of  the  town  builders  and  their 
singular  structures  now  remains  in  the  valley  of  the  Bio 
Grande  and  the  land  of  the  Moqui.  Bartlett  and  Hubert 
Bancroft,  the  historians,  are  of  the  opinion  that,  at  one 
time,  in  the  Salt  Eiver  country  there  was  a  population 
of  200,000  Indians— Pimas,  Maricopas  and  Papagoes — of 
whom  buf  a  pitiful  remnant  now  remains.  Of  a  certain- 
ty, tribal  wars  and,  it  may  be,  famine  and  pestilence  wore 
down  the  race  and  in  a  few  years  the  white  man's  vices 
and  the  white  man's  diseases  will  finish  them.  Whether 
they  would  ever  have  advanced  beyond  their  rude  arfchi- 
teoture  and  simple  hoe  culture  is  very  doubtful.  I  am  of 
the  opinion,  from  a  study  of  and  experience  with  the 
Brazilian  tribe-  that  when  the  Europeans  came  to  the 
southwest  the  indigenous  people  were  descending  from 
barbarism  to  savagery,  and,  like  the  Aztec  tribes  of 
Mexico,  would,  with  the  march  of  time,  become  cannibals. 
Savage  man  cannot  of  himself  move  upward.  The  negro 
of  equatorial  Africa  was  a  savage  long  before  the  time 
of  Herodotus ;  for  four  thousand  years  he  took  not  one 
single  step  toward  civilization,  and  Livingstone  and 
Stanley  found  him  the  same  brutalized  man  that  he  was 
in  the  days  of  the  firs  Bameses.  St.  Paul,  two  thou- 
sand years  ago,  in  language  that  admits  of  no  equivoca- 
tion, said  that  it  "ras  impossible  for  man  to  attain  to  a 
knowledge  of  the  ;iigher  truths  without  a  teacher.  The 
low  state  of  some  of  the  American  tribes,  the  South  Sea 
islander,  and  the  African  savage,  when  first  encountered 
by  civilized  man,  would  seem  to  prove  that,  unassisted  by 
a  higher  type  of  the  human  race,  the  savage  cannot  ris» 
out  of  his  degradation.  And  if  even  man,  when  having 
gone  down  to  savagery,  could  never  ascend  the  steep  de- 
cline he  had  once  trodden,  how  was  it  possible  for  the 


BY  PATH  AMD  TBAIL. 


193 


half-ape-half-man  of  the  Agnostic  to  lift  himself  to  a 
lugher  planer    I  cannot  resist  the  malicious  suspicion 
that  aU  these  puerile  and  violent  attempts  to  account  for 
the  ongm  of  man  were  intended  to  destroy  the  credibility 
ChrUttlnu""  °°^  '""^^  '°  ^^^  ^^"'^^  *°^  perpetuity  of 
Here,  near  the  Casa  Grande,  I  saw  for  the  first  time 
the  alligator  lizard  or  "Gila  monster,"  imprisoned  in  a 
wire  enclosure  on  the  ranch  of  a  Mexican  vaquero     Full 
grown    this  repulsive  reptile  is  three  feet  long,  of  a 
black-brownish  color,  with  the  snout  of  a  crocodile  and 
the  eye  of  a  snake.    The  hideous  and  venomous  thing 
bore  an  evil  reputation  three  thousand  years  ago     He 
IS  the  only  surviving  reptile  that  answers  to  the  Biblical 
description  of  the  cockatrice  or  basilisk.    In  those  early 
days  It  inspired  loathing  and  was  shunned  for  its  subtlety 
and  dreaded  bite.   It  was  selected,  with  the  asp  and  other 
poisonous  creatures,  by  Isaiah  to  illustrate  the  benign 
influence  of  our  Divine  Lord  in  subduing  the  fierce  pas- 
sions of  men  which  he  compared  to  ravenous  beasts  and 
poisonous  reptiles     In  prophetic  allegory  the  inspired 
Judean  foretells  the  time  when  "the  suckling  child  shall 
play  on  the  hole  of  the  asp  and  the  weaned  child  shall  put 
his  hand  m  the  den  of  the  basilisk."    Is  the  bite  of  this 
repulsive  creature  fatal?     When  the  Gila  monster  at- 
tains its  growth  and  is  not  in  a  torpid  or  semi-torpid 
condition  Its  bite  is  as  serious  as  that  of  the  rattlesnake 
\Vhen  young  or  in  a  torpid  state,  often  for  four  months 
of  the  year  the  "h,la"  does  not  secrete  poison.  Ignor- 
ance of  the  habits  of  the  reptile  have  led  to  interminable 
disputes  and  discussions  making  an  agreement  of  opinion 
impossible.    When  I  was  in  Yuma  I  met  a  surgeon  who 
last  year,  treated  two  men  who  had  been  bitten.    I  need 


IM 


BY  PATH  AND  IBAIL. 


not  enter  into  the  details  of  how  they  happened  to  be 
bitten.  One  man  came  to  the  surgeon  last  November, 
three  hours  after  the  "hila"  sank  his  teeth  in  his  hand. 
The  doctor  cauterized  the  wound  and  the  man  experi- 
enced no  more  inconvenience  than  he  would  from  the 
bite  of  a  gopher.  The  other  man,  Ernest  Phair  by  name, 
was  bitten  at  four  in  the  afternoon,  had  the  wound  cauter- 
ized and  treated  with  antiseptics  two  hours  after  the 
bite.  At  10  o'clock  that  night  he  was  "out  of  his  mind," 
his  limbs  became  shockingly  tumefied  and  at  2  o'clock  in 
the  morning  Phair  died.  This  loathsome  creature  of 
giant  wrack  is  disappearing  and  in  twenty  or  thirty  years 
it  will  be  extinct.  Beference  here  to  Yuma  reminds  me 
that  nowhere  in  the  southwest  have  I  seen  tramps,  hoboes 
and  yegg  men  behave  themselves  as  well  as  they  do  in 
this  town.  When  I  mentioned  this  good  behavior  of  the 
"floating  brigade"  to  Sheriff  Livingston  he  said  that 
conditions  made  for  it.  "You  nee,"  <!ontinned  the  sheriff, 
"there  is  practically  no  escape  from  Yuma  for  a  crimi- 
nal. The  only  avenues  open  are  the  railroad  and  the 
river.  To  strike  across  the  country  would  mean  death 
from  thirst  on  the  desert.  This  accounts  for  the  fact 
that  the  tramps  and  hoboes  are  very  peaceful  in  Yuma. 
The  river  and  railroads  offer  no  hope  to  an  escaped 
prisoner,  for  they  are  too  well  policed." 

Accompanied  by  a  guide,  I  left  Casa  Grande  early  in 
the  forenoon  on  burros  or  donkeys,  and  struck  southeast 
across  the  Aravapi  desert,  hoping  to  reach  the  historic 
town  of  Tucson  some  time  in  the  afternoon  of  the  next 
day.  Passing  over  ten  miles  of  desert  we  entered  the 
canyon  of  Santa  Catalina  in  the  mountains  of  the  same 
name.  For  four  miles  we  traveled  through  a  dark  and 
dismal  gorge  enclosed  by  walls  1,000  feet  above  the  trail 


Br  PATH  AKD  TBAIL. 


195 


and  no  place  wider  than  an  ordinary  street.    Wherever 

Lh  H  ?.  /"""I  '  "'"'"^  «''"'•  "^O"^  'homy  plate, 
matted  the  face  of  the  escarpment.  Sheltered  from  the 
sun  by  walls  of  solid  granite,  porphyry  or  basalt,  the 
great  pass  was  cool  and  the  silence  intense.  Here  and 
there  were  piles  of  loose  stones  and  boulders  deposited 

the  flanks  of  the  CataUnas  and  swelled  this  gorge  to  a 
rushing  torrent.  When  we  emerged  from  the  rioomy 
canyon  we  saw  before  us  another  desert,  stretching  away 

ear?y  ^^„isl°  *'*,  ^'"'*''  ^'"^  ""S*'  «"PPosed  by  the 
early  Spanish  explorers  to  contain  fabulous  hordes  of 
gold  and  silver  To  our  right  rose  the  Baboquivari,  the 
sacred  mount  of  the  Papagoes.  Across  this  desert  four 
hundred  years  ago  marched  the  Spanish  missionary  and 

fr,f       .    ?u  °''^'"'"'  ^^"""^  '°  ''e"  "  »>e««age  of 

ifll^Z   \r  "'/""^^  P"°P'«'  "^•'o  '"t  i°  darLes 
and  m  the  shadow  of  death. " 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A  CITY  IN  THE  DMEKT 

To  this  traLu-r ;  t  cTstlrd  '  H  ""T '  """- 
city  has  grown  awav  frnn,  *.  ,  f  w  "*™  "'^  "'<"Jern 
is  yet  a  nuineriLTy^trol  part'  fT'"'  '""''"'  ^''"^ 
the  desert,  leaving  ttauafnt     M  t^''^'-'^  ""'  '■"» 

a  separation,  but  rather  a  snrtTn  '"■'^' '"""  ^^^^ 

onhe  young  giant  toil  rfntrd^tr'T h"" 

^"tion  andtst::s' Tp'eo:,:?  ""*''"'•  '-^"ffe- Ora- 
tion of  the  mayor  and  a're^L^  rf^r"""  V"""  '"''"■ 
gift  of  the  citizens,  are  proteS  K    *. ''°^'  '"^™  '"  """ 

pap^s  aM  LrpLttfr  r""^*"t^  «^  ^^-^' 

i'adre  Kino,  visited  it  In  16^  H^  f"t  T'''""''^' 
T'an  that  ever  crossed  the  Santn  P  ?'  *'"  '''■''*  '^'^t^ 
entered  Tucson      In  Y77,    ?        ^™'  *'<""  ^^'^  ^««t  and 

-any  of  its  swarthy  d/n  ens  Z  T  '.  T''"'''  ^■■* 
into  the  church-  it  w„!        .  .       "'"""^J'  ^"^^  '■ecoived 

of  SanXavierddBaTLd  w       "^''""  "^  *'^'^  ^"-'^ 

In  1771  the  Spanifh  1  ""'"  ^^"^  ■^''■'''  ''^  Tucson. 

^hif'ed  to  Tucson   af.  "i"^  or  presidio  at  Tubac  was 

iucson,  a  resident  pnest  appointed  and  the 


198 


BY  PATH  AM)  TRAIL. 


adobe  cliurcl.  of  St.  Augustin  built,  the  walU  of  wlucli 
are  yet  standing  on  tlic  eaxt  bank  of  the  Santa  Cruz  one 
of  the  disappearing  rivers  of  the  southwest  W  ith  tlio 
coming  of  the  railroad  in  189«  the  really  modern  Tucson 
begins  In  1803  two  meteoric  bodies  were  found  here 
weighing  respectively  l,6l)()  and  032  pounds.  The  rub- 
bish  that  has  been  written  about  Tucson  m  the  news- 
papers, books  and  magazines  of  the  east,  is  only  matcUed 
by  the  myths  and  fables  published  about  Santa  i  e.  From 
before  Father  Kino's  visit  in  Ki-Jl  Tucson  was  never 
heard  of.  Since  then,  down  to  the  buildmg  of  the  South- 
ern Pacific,  its  history  is  a  record  of  blood  and  murders, 
of  Apache  raids,  of  Mexican  feuds  and  American  out- 
laws, gamblers  and  hold-up  men  who  exterminated  each 
other  or  were  lynched  by  the  law-abiding  citizens.  To- 
day  Tucson  is  a  city  of  law  and  order  and  will  soon  be 
ttie  metropolis  of  Arizona.  So  much  by  way  of  a  prefpc« 
and  now  let  us  continue  our  impressions  of  the  city. 

The  early  Spaniards  civilized  and  Christianized  the 
Aztecs  of  Mexico  and  intermarried  with  them.  From 
these  unions  were  begotten  the  race  known  to-day  as 
Mexican,  though  the  average  American  very  oftr.n  con- 
fuses-and  very  annoyingly  to  the  Mexican-the  Indian 
tribes  of  the  Mexican  republic  with  the  descendants  of 
the  Spanish  colonists  and  military  settlers  and  the  daugh- 
ters of  the  warriors  of  Montezuma.  The  Spaniards  did 
BometHing  more.  They  imparted  to  their  descendants 
eourtcsy,  civility  and  liigh  ideals.  They  taught  them  all 
those  nameless  refinements  of  speech  and  manner  which 
impart  a  gracious  flavor  to  association  and  a  charm  to 
companionship. 

I  cannot  help  thinking  that  the  Americans  of  Tucson 
have  profited  very  much  from  their  intercourse  with  the 


■»  PATH  AMD  TIAIL. 


199 


terful  in  all  that  m.i,!.  #       mferial  progress ;  bo  mag- 

that  many  of  the  oW  Snl'  ^  *'       "'"'  '''"'  ™K"" 

di««ppeaid  and  thaf  o^hT'^T""'"  "'  "■*  '"'««"'  '""^ 

the  struggle  to  h  dTortiSVe". *"'''?'" '" 
Cherry  street  has  usurmd  ^rtrTn  v  ,  «"°«''  «nd 
onr  good-natured  CnTxr  ^         "°°"'  P"^i'«K«8.  and 

blazoned  Th  r  l/na  JSeTo  'h  ,'''  '^*'"''  "■""« 
morial  right,  oughtto  b^'"  '*'  «"'«''"°"P«.  »>•  imme- 

tion^of  rl:;  mX' Z:  ^S^rt  ""■"-•  «•«  ""^op- 
customs,  fiestas  and  ceremcnks  ^S'"™  "'  "'"^  *™'' 
the  people  are  the  same^"h  Xm  T  Lf",  Tf  «^««-. 
ago  in  Zacatecaa  r.,.™  ^        mingled  two  years 

hL  ar:  t^rr^sS  wUh  """  '"T  '"  ^'^'"^ 

Remember  thi.Hi,mK„   u  """r  «     rammed"  earth, 

thousand     In  eirfy  tTmrth*   '"  '""■'  "«"  •="'*  »'  ">« 

Tapole    which  concealed  all  the  face  but  the  left 


200 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


eye.  Tffe  Moors,  who  held  possession  of  -"^  ""^^^f^^ 
of  Spain  for  almost  800  years,  grafted  "-^  t^«  ^^^^'''^i 
race  many  of  their  own  customs,  manners  and  Oriental 
dress  The  Spanish  women  inherited  f--  ^^^^  ^^ 
"R^hozo  "  the  "Tapole"  and  concealment  of  the  tace, 
and  the  Mexi  an  senoritas  adopted  the  dress  of  their 
Srmnish  sisters  I  found  the  men  leanmg,  as  of  old, 
2  inst  theToor  ^ambs  and  walls  of  tl^f  ~  ^f^P^^ 
smoking  their  soothing  -^^^l^^^ZJ^.W^^X 
pinch  of  tobacco  m  a  piece  of  '^--f/'^^.^^^^^f^^sque 
fra^?  andTlJe  rr!S  colorTManUet  o^  cotton  or 
woo'and  the  sweeping  sombrero    wide  -  a  Phaeton 

:.:  ZZ-^:\>f^^^^^^<^  -passed  a  motley  aggre^a 

S;rt:s^rtd^srrhr=.  3 
E^-rforei::::^^:^^-^S 

H^w-=srt;i^;^:tiss 

::;?dTing  mon^groK  ^rst  cousins  to  tl.  sneaUing  coy- 

"^Ve'surfsS'of  racial  absorption  comes  when  a  peo 
t,le  tg  n  to  aXpt  the  diet  and  cooking  of  the  foreign  ele- 
^riluiVhomVy  must  U-  and  w4tli  .«ey^-^ 
associate,  at  least  commercially.    To  test  now  lar 
process  Va««iniilation  and  incorporation  had  already 
Xn^d  among  the  Mexicans,  I  lined  to    ay  a    o 
their  restaurants.    Fortunately  or  alas!  it  .^a.  the  same 


BY   -ATH  AND  TKJil, 


201 


famUiar  and  palatabl  ..eal  I  had  .so  often  sampled  in 
tte  in  and  towns  of  the  ne,sh....i.,,  ..epublic.  Be^nning 
^th     soppaseca"  or  vegetable  soup,  I  had  my  choice 

''tortfli::  "  f /"'  ffr.  "'  "^-■"''••J-."  "tamales  .- 
tortiUas;'  plates  of  "fnjoles"  and  -chile  con  came" 
seasoned  with  "chile  Colorado"  or  any  other  kind  of 
pepper.  The  dessert  introduced  "dulces,"  coffee  or 
chocolate  cheese,  cigarettes  and  Chihuahua  biscuits  Evi- 
dent y  after  (Hy  ,ears  of  occupation  the  absorption  of 
L  Sr  "'  "'  -""^'"-''^"  ■"  "''  '"  -'^  -"»'  «tage 

The  enchilada  ,s  a  cake  of  corn  batter  dipped  in  a  .stew 
of  tomatoes,  cheese  and  onions  seasoned  with  pepper 
and  served  steaming  hot.  The  tamale  is  made  trom 
hopped  meat,  beef,  pork  or  chicken,  or  a  mixture  of  aU 

of  corn.    These  dishes,  when  properly  prepared,  are  de- 

ZT  ::,  ''^7™<^"^">-  fi-^-S  *«-  "ay  to  Ameri, an 
tables  and  restaurants.  Cooked  as  the  Mexicans  cook 
them,  they  would  be  a  valuable  addition  to  the  admirable 
menus  of  our  eastern  hotels. 

After  dinner  I  visited  the  half  acre  of  ground  which 
was  at  one  time  the  "God's  acre,"  the  last^restingT.lace 

boots  on.  In  those  days-1855  to  1876-the  Apaches 
wooped  down  from  their  momitain  lairs,  and  attack  ng 
Sedtt  m  'm'"""  '""  '""  "-■g'^tioring  ninchos^ 
back  with  them  he  women  and  children.  As  I  mav  have 
to  deal  some  other  time  wth  this  extraordinary  and 
crafty  tribe  and  fierce  race  of  men,  I  will  sav  here,  onlv 
u.  anticipation,  that  the  Apaches  of  Arizona  were  the 


202 


BY  PATH  AND  TKAIL. 


Shrewdest  and  most  revengeful  fighters  ever  encouD- 
tered  by  white  men  within  the  present    hmits   of   the 
United  States.    Fiercer  than  the  mountain  lion,  wilder 
than  the  coyote  he  called  his  brother,  Inured  to  great 
fatigue,  to  extreme  suffering  of  soul  and  body,  to  the 
extremes  of  heat  and  cold  and  to  bearing  for  days  and 
nights  the  pangs  of  hunger  and  thirst,  the  Apache  Indian 
was  the  most  terrible  foe  the  wilderness  produced.    In 
those  early  davs  this  neglected  piece  of  ground,  "where 
heaves  the  turf  in  many  a  mouldering  heap,"  recorded 
the  history  of  the  pioneer  days  of  the  American  Tucson. 
The  headboards  marking  the  graves  informed  the  visiting 
stranger  that  this  man  was  "killed  by  the  Apaches,"  this 
one  "died  of  wounds  in  a  fight  with  the  Apaches,"  this 
other  "scalped,  tortured  and  kil'  d  by  the  Apaches," 
and— this  family  in  the  little  corner  of  the  graveyard— 
"this  whole  family,  wife,  husband  and  six  children  was 
wiped  out  by  the  Apaches."    But  these  days  are  gone 
forever  J  the  Apache  is  imprisoned  on  the  reservation  and 
we  may  safely  say  of  him  what  Bourienne  said  over  the 
grave  of  Bonaparte,  "No  sound  can  awake  him  to  glory 
again." 

To-day,  with  a  population  of  17,000,  and  a  property 
valuation  of  many  millions,  this  city  is  the  social  and 
commercial  oasis  of  Arizona.  The  city  is  well  supplied 
with  churches,  schoolhouses  and  public  institutions.  The 
Carnegie  free  library,  erected  at  a  cost  of  $25,000,  is 
surrounded  by  wei:  kept  grounds;  it  faces  Washington 
park,  the  military  plaza  of  the  old  Mexican  presidio,  and 
the  largest  public  park  in  the  city.  The  Sisters  of  St. 
Joseph  look  after  the  parochial  schools,  have  a  very  fine 
academy  for  voung  ladies  and  conduct  one  of  the  best 
hospitals  of  Arizona.    There  are  twelve  hotels  in  the 


— Cowrijht  hj  Underwood  A  Underwood,  New  York 

"WHITB  P^OLE"   AND   "THK   PUMA"   AFACHKS   ON   PAHADB. 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


203 


city  and,  one  of  them,  the  Santa  Rita,  is  architecturally 
one  of  the  most  novel  buildings  of  the  southwest.  It  is 
named  from  the  Santa  Rita  range  of  mountains  and 
forms,  with  San  Augustin's  Cathedral,  the  most  impos- 
ing structure  in  Tucson.  The  city  council  is  experiment- 
ing in  street  oiling,  not  sprinkling  the  str:9ts  with  oil,  as 
in  San  Diego,  southern  California,  but  soaking  them,  so 
that  the  fine  triturated  sand  forms  with  the  oil  a  fairly 
durable  and  smooth  surface. 

On  these  same  streets  one    is    always    running   up 
against  some  interesting  and  peculiar  varieties  of  the 
Noachic  stock.    Here  are  Chinese  in  quest  of  the  elusive 
dollar,  stage  ghosts  in  Oriental  dress,  quiet,  unobtrusive 
always  looking  down  on  the  dust  as  if  examining  the 
minute  particles  entering  into  the  composition  of  their 
material  selves,  and  apparently  doing  a  "heap"  of  think- 
ing; h-.re,  Jilso,  is  his  cousin  germain— the  gentle  and 
innocent-looking  Papago  or  Pima  of  the  mysterious  abo- 
riginal race,  sun-scorched  and  wind-tanned   with   long 
coal-black  hair  and  keen  snake-like  eye.    He  is  in  from 
the  reservation  of  San  Xavier  del  Bac,  nine  miles  south 
of  here,  asking  a  dollar  for  a  manufactured  stone  relic 
worth  10  cents.     The  sons  6t  Cnsh,  the  Ethiopian,  mo- 
nopolize the  lucrative  trade  of  shoe  blacking,  guffaws 
and  loud  laughter.     Varieties  of  the  Caucasian  race- 
rare  varieties  many  of  them— half-hreeds,  mulattos  and 
Mexican  half-castes,  all  have  right  of  way  and  use  it  on 
the  beautiful  streets  of  Tucson. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

CAMP   OF   THE   CONSUMPTnrES. 

From  the  balcony  of  my  hotel  I  looked  away,  the  morn- 
ing after  I  came  to  Tucson,  to  the  northeast,  where  iust 
outs.de  the  city  limits,  row  upon  row  of  white  tenrbreak 
the  monotony  of  gray  sand,  mesquite  and  "grease- 
bush.    Here  on  the  desert,  protected  from  the  ^nds  on 

n/'.f  .'.''f"*''  "^  porphyritic  mountains,  1, 
pitched  the  tented  city  of  the  consumptives  or  "lungers" 
as  the  rougher  element  around  here  call  them 
_  Here  in  this  canvas-tented  camp  the  victims  of  the 
white  plague  '  and  those  threatened  by  the  monster 
gather  from  all  the  states  of  the  East  and  form  a  com- 
munity by  tnemselves.  The  white  canvas  of  the  tents 
gruesomely  harmonizes  with  the  pale  faces  of  the  un- 
T?»r»r*        1  *'f  '"'"«'■    ^"'l'"  ^'^oy  to  the  east 

are  an/t  ."  8«°"«"""'  ^y  my  side  what  these  dots 

are  and  he  courteously  answers:  "These  are  the  tents 
of  the  isolaters  who  wish  to  live  alone  and  live  their  own 
lives  m  their  own  way." 

To-day  I  visited  the  camp  or  reservation  of  the  con- 
sumptives. I  seldom  carry  a  letter  of  introduction,  for 
I  am  one  of  those  who  depend  much  upon  an  accidental 
acquaintance.  4s  I  go  wandering  through  the  world  I 
see  many  a  face  whose  mild  eyes  and  sweet,  placid  feat- 
ures bespeak  a  gentle  mind  and  a  candid  .oul.  Such  a 
face  as  this  IS  worth  more  than  a  dozen  of  letters  of  in- 
troduction, for  written  on  it  is  the  assurance  of  civility 
and  kindness.    In  any  case  I  knew  no  one  here  to  whom 


206 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


I  could  appeal  for  an  introduction  to  any  one  in  the  camp. 
The  tents  are  of  cotton  or  ship  canvas,  with  broad  floors 
of  "rammed"  earth,  or  simply  rugs  laid  upon  the  dry 
sand.  They  are  of  varying  sizes,  furnished  and  orna- 
mented according  to  the  means  or  tastes  of  the  occu- 
pants. Most  of  them  are  divided  into  Ijitchen,  living  and 
sleeping  apartments.  In  some,  the  gloom  of  the  "liv- 
ing" room  was  relieved  by  the  bright  colors  of  a  few 
Navajo  blankets  or  Mohave  rugs.  In  others  were  photo- 
graphs of  the  dear  ones  at  home,  little  framed  titbits  of 
western  scenery,  illustrated  .souvenir  cards,  from  Euro- 
pean and  eastern  friends  and  caged  California  road- 
runners  or  Arizona  mocking  birds.  Here  also  were 
earthenware  jars  called  "oUas"  holding  water  which 
cools  by  evaporation,  banjos,  zithers  and  guitars,  lying 
on  the  table  or  suspended  from  the  aides  of  the  tents.  Now 
and  then  you  entered  an  apartment  where  an  accumula- 
tion of  Papago  bows  and  arrows,  obsidian  tipped  lances, 
Apache  quivers  and  Moqui  stone  hatchets  advertise  the 
archaeological  taste  of  the  proprietor.  Occasionally  I 
entered  a  tent  where  the  limited  means  of  the  owner  or 
renter  allowed  him  or  her  few  luxuries.  To  be  poor  is 
not  a  disgrace  nor  ought  it  to  be  a  humiliation,  but  there 
are  times  and  places  when  to  be  poor — I  do  not  say  pov- 
erty— is  very  trying  to  the  human  soul  and  galling  to  the 
independent  mind.  Without  money  and  a  liberal  supply 
of  it  no  consumptive  should  come  here.  In  the  tent  of 
the  young  man  or  woman  of  limited  resources  was  a 
single  cot,  or  perhaps  two,  an  ordinary  chair  and  a 
"rocker,"  a  trunk,  a  small  pine  wash  stand,  an  oil  stove, 
a  looking-glass  and  maybe  a  few  books  and  magazines. 
Now  and  then  the  purest  and  gentlest  of  breezes  merrily 
tossed  the  flaps  and  flies  of  the  tent,  and  a  harmless  and 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


207 


wondrously  colored  little  lizard,  called  by  the  Mexicans 
chjquita,     coquetf>Q  with  the  magazines  on  the  table 
The  patients  who  are  here  taking  the  "air"  treatment 
rarely  enter  the  city.     Every  morning,  from  6  to  1" 
butchers,  milkmen,  grocery  boys  and  Chinese  vegetable 
hawkers  make  the  rounds  of  the  camp  and  isolated  tents. 
They  are  all  here,  the  rich,  the  middling  rich  and  the 
comparatively  poor  putting  up  a  brave  fight  against  an 
msidious,  treacherous  foe-"  not  so  well  to-duv,  but  to- 
morrow,  to-morrow,  we'll  be  better  "-always"  nur.sing 
the  consumptive's  longing  and  cherishing  the  "hope  that 
spring's  eternal  in  the  human  breast."  "What's  the  per 
centage  of  the  cured?"    I  do  not  know,  I  may  onlv  «ay 
that  if  pure,  drj-  air  can  accomplish  anything  fo^  dis- 
eased lungs,  you  have  it  here  day  and  night  abmidantly. 
Nether  Spam,  Italy  or  Southern  France  mav  compare 
with  Southern  Arizona  in  dryness  and  bnlminess  of  cli- 
mate, and  I  write  with  the  knowledge  of  one  who  is  fa- 
miliar with  the  climat,     of  these  countries.    I  know  not 

Z»«  '1°°  .t""*?  '''""  ^"^  pulmonary  and  nervous 
diseases  than  the  desert  lands  around  Tucson  from  No- 
vember to  April.  Bear  in  mind  I  am  not  recommending 
any  man  or  woman  to  come  here  in  the  final  stages  of 

tTZTT^r"  "'■^°''  P"""'"  '^  °°*  '"'Se,  deep  and 
well  filled,  for  druggists'  and  doctors'  bills,  groceries 
and  incidentals  are  "away  up"  and  almost  out  of  sight. 
-The  winter  nights  here  are  cool  and  bracing,  and  the 
early  mormngs  sharp  when  a  gasoline  or  oil  stove  is  a 
most  convenient  piece  of  furniture.  But  from  8  in  the 
morning  to  4  in  the  afternoon  every  day  in  winter  is  a 
delight  and  the  air  an  atmospheric  dream.  The  sum- 
mers are  hot,  "confoundedly  'ot,"  to  use  a  Wellerism, 
when  the  heat  will  at  times  run  the  mercurv  up  to  lOQ 


208 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


Fahrenheit.  There  have  beea  weeks  here  in  the  lummer 
when  the  thermometer  would  register  98  degrees  day  acd 
night.  But  remember  there  would  be  only  20  per  cent 
moisture  in  the  air.  In  the  eastern  states  such  heat 
would  wear  down  men  and  animals.  A  canvas  tent  of 
fair  size  costs  anywhere  from  $60  to  $100  or  a  tent  may 
be  rented  including  site  for  from  $15  to  $30  a  month, 
counting  in  a  little  cheap  furniture.  People  soon  learn 
to  do  their  own  cooking,  and  after  a  time  begin  to  live 
with  reasonable  economy.  There  is  an  electric  road  run- 
ning from  the  camp  to  the  city,  the  fare  for  the  return 
trip  being  10  cents.  In  this  tented  village  are  men  and 
women  of  all  ages,  bui  liefly  the  young  and  the  middle 
aged  who,  in  the  woruj  of  the  Psalmist,  are  "suffering 
hard  things  and  drinking  the  wine  of  sorrow."  It  is 
very  lonely  here  for  many  and  wearisome,  and  this  feel- 
ing of  loneliness  engenders  a  sadness  which  is  often 
more  fatal  than  disease,  for  the  splendid  air  cannot  reach 
it.  Away  from  home  and  friends,  the  human  heart 
craves  companionship  and  those  who  at  home  are  natu- 
rally reserved,  and  socially  exclusive,  here  become  com- 
panionable and  invite  conversation.  For  some,  life  here 
is  very  trying  indeed;  It  is  so  lonesome,  so  monotonous 
to  live,  day  by  day,  '  hiu  life  of  sameness  and  unchanging 
routine  unredeemed  by  variety  and  unblessed  by  pleas- 
ant association.  This  isolation  bears  in  upon  the  soul; 
it  tires  of  its  own  thoughts  which,  even  if  pleasant,  carry 
a  note  of  sadness.  There  are  here  and  there  in  the  camp 
human  souls,  imprisoned  in  their  decomposing  bodies, 
that  are  by  nature  melancholy  and  given  to  brooding. 
Q''hey  become  morose  in  their  thoughts  and  drift  into 
thf<  piluul  condition  described  by  the  Koyal  Prophet 
when  the  sorrowful  soul  communes  with  itself  and  in 


BT  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


aoB 


drupair  exclaims,  "I  looked  for  one  that  would  grieve 
with  me  and  there  was  none;  and  for  one  that  would 
o<  mfort  me  and  I  found  no  one." 

The  days  are  so  long,  so  full  of  melancholy  forebod- 
ings, of  pleasant  and  unpleasant  memories,  of  fears  of 
dissolution  and  the  hope  of  life;  and  after  the  day  the 
wearisome  night  and  intermittent  slumbers,  and  even 
these  broken  with  hacking  coughs,  with  the  dreaded 
chills  and  burning  fever,  and,  perhaps,  unwelcome 
dreams. 

Here  each  human  will  is  putting  up  a  brave  fight 
against  treacherous  and  insidious  foes,  fiendishly  cun- 
ning in  their  methods  of  attack.  It  is  the  combat  "of  the 
body  against  millions  of  bacterial  activities,  of  micro- 
scopic parasites,  which,  living,  feed  upon  the  lungs,  and 
when  dead  poison  the  blood.  In  this  unequal  fight  for 
life  the  soul  h:  ever  active,  helping  the  body— its  yet  liv- 
ing tabem:iclo  and  beloved  companion— with  hope,  with 
splendid  determination,  and  whispering  to  it  with  un- 
quenchable love,  "What  magnificent  help  this  friendly 
air  of  Arizona  is  giving  us,"  Then  the  bodv  has  an- 
other fnend,  severe,  if  you  will,  but  a  friend— the  ter- 
rible cough,  that  racks  the  body  with  heroic  determina- 
tion to  tear  out  the  dead  and  decaying  bacteria  poisoning 
the  human  temple.    And  now, 

"Swing  outward,  ye  gates  of  the  future; 

Swing  inward,  ye  gates  of  the  past. 
For  the  dark  shades  of  night  are  retiring. 
And  the  white  lights  are  breaking  at  last." 

The  tlierapentic  air  and  loving  soul  are  winning  out. 
The  cough  is  bidding  good-bye  to  the  body,  its  help  is 
no  longer  required,  the  dreaded  night  sweats  have  van- 


210 


BY  PATH  AND  THAIL. 


islipd  and  the  soul,  rejoicing,  says  to  its  companion, 
"The  battle  in  won;  the  field  is  ours." 

In  one  tent,  into  which  i  was  invited  by  tlie  mother, 
reclined  on  the  lounge  her  daughter,  a  fair  young  girl 
of  18  or  20.  She  sat  up  as  we  entered,  and  wlien  I  was 
introduced  she  courteously  extended  to  me  her  hand, 
which  left  upon  my  own  a  sensation  of  wetness.  Her 
conversation,  address  and  bearing  indicated  a  convent 
training  and  a  cultivated  mind.  Her  blue  eyes,  the  fever 
flush  on  her  cheeks,  and  her  wealth  of  rich,' auburn  hair, 
sadly  reminded  me  of  the  "Norman  Peasant's  Daugh- 
ter," immortalized  by  the  Irish  poet,  Thomas  Davis: 

"To  Munster's  vale  they  brought  her 

To  the  cool  and  balmy  air, 
A  Norman  peasant's  daughter 

With  blue  eyes  and  golden  hair. 
They  brought  her  to  the  valley. 

And  she  faded,  slowly,  there, 
Consumption  has  no  pity 

For  bine  eyes  and  golden  hair." 

The  tent  erected  to  shield  "from  sunbeam  and  from 
rain  the  one  beloved  head,"  bore  in  its  fumishment  and 
decorations  testimony  that  the  hand  which  hung  the  etch- 
ings and  photographs  and  the  taste  which  arranged  the 
rugs  and  furniture,  were  directed  by  a  refined  and  culti- 
vated mind.  The  young  lady  has  been  here  but  five 
weeks,  and  already  is  beginning  to  experience  a  change 
for  the  better.  May  she  and  her  companion  in  suffering 
return  home  restored  to  health  and  to  the  possession  of 
many  years  of  happiness. 

It  is  well  to  remember  that  Arizona  is  a  very  large  ter- 
ritory—114,000  square  miles— and  that  all  of  it  is  not  to 


BV   I'ATII    AXil  iriAII., 


311 


be  recommended  for  .lisenHo.l  |„„«s  or  Himttored  nervos 
Tliere  are  l.r.m.I  strt.t..|i..s  .,f  ,|esoit  where  the  winds 
raise  oloucU  of  finest  dnsl;  there  are  t„weri„K  n.ountuins 
and  startl.nK  canyons  and  «l.,omv  ravines.  There  are 
sections  of  the  land  whiel,  exude  baleful  mularia.  and 
places  black,  for  miles  and  miles  with  solid  wave,  of 
lava,  recording  the  elemental  eonfusion  of  fire  an.l  steam 
and  exp  od.DK  Rases  in  days  gone  by.  («nt,  I  an,  told  bv 
those  who  have  explored  the  territory  -bv  ,,i„„eers  of 
the  early  t.mes-that  the  sand  and  gravel  be.ls  of  the 
Tucson  valley  are  ideal  grounds  for  cuMunptives  and 
neurasthenics,  or  ,«.„ple  „r  shattered  nerves.  Kron. 
what  I  know  of  other  lands  and  other  climates,  I  believe 
tne  pioneers  are  right. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  OSTBICH  FABM  AND  THE  SALTOH  SEA. 

The  American  people  live  in  the  most  wonderful  of  all 
lands,  and  do  not  seem  to  realize  the  glory  of  their  pos- 

m  quest  of  strange  scenes;  they  fill  the  art  galleries  of 
Europe  to  view  the  productions  of  the  sculptor  and  the 
pamter,  when  here,  within  their  own  domain;  unseen  and 

tTve  aTw  1"  7,  """"*''  "^  ""^-^^  '"'«'°8  «»  descrip- 
tive ait,  wonderful  creations  of  God  challenging  the  pen 
of  the  poet,  and  the  possibilities  of  the  brush  of  genC 
While  traveling  through  this  wonderful  territory  I 
was  asked  if  I  hrd  seen  the  ostrich  farms  on  thelalt 
River  valley.  I  had  to  answer  that  I  had  not,  and  in 
every  instance  I  was  urgently  pressed  to  visit  the  feed- 
ing grounds  of  this  strange  bird  before  leaving  Arizona 
I  came  to  Phoenix  last  week  to  enjoy  a  few  dafs  of  ndo 

ind  Zl     r  ■'""""f  '"'  *"*  ^''"^  "f  Sonoma,  Mexico, 
and   he  hunting  grounds  of  the  terrible  Yaquis,  of  whom 

'ou  have  heard.  Not  ^nr  from  Phoenix  there  is  an  I 
tr,  h  farm,  where  1,000  birds  are  annually  surrendering 
to  the  'plnckers"  $30,000  worth  of  feathers  and  eggs  I 
am  not  going  to  inflict  upon  my  readers  anv  detailed 
descrip  ion  of  the  wired  farm  enclosing  these"  1,000  Af 
rican  birds,  nor  of  the  pens  of  the  birds,  nor  the  topo 
graphical  features  of  the  land,  but  will '  simph  record 
iSited  "  ""  "'  '"™*'  "'  *""'  "^*"<"'  ^t^h'^  -""' 

But  first  let  me  correct  some  mistakes  and  errors  our 
story  books  and  school  books  have  handed  down  to  L 


214 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


about  the  ostrich  and  his  habits.  This  singular  bird, 
when  pursued  by  man  or  animal,  does  not  bury  his  head 
in  the  sand  and  suppose  that,  because  the  ostrich  cannot 
see  its  enemy,  the  enemy  cannot  see  it.  The  ostrich, 
when  in  condition,  can  out-mn  and  out-dodge  almost  any- 
thing traveling  on  two  or  four  feet.  This  was.  well 
known  to  the  ancients,  for  the  Patriaeh  Job  instances  the 
fleetness  of  the  ostrich  in  proof  of  God's  kindness: 
"For,  if  God  hath  deprived  the  ostrich  of  wisdom,  nor 
gave  her  understanding,  when  the  time  calls  for  it,  she 
setteth  up  her  wings  on  high.  She  scometh  the  horse 
and  his  rider."  When  driven  to  close  quarters  and 
forced  to  defend  himself,  this  extraordinary  bird  is  a 
fierce  fighter,  and  very  few  wild  animals  care  to  attack 
him. 

She  does  not  lay  two  eggs  on  the  hot  desert,  hide  them 
with  a  thin  covering  of  sand  and  trust  to  luck  or  the 
sun  to  hatch  them.  She  does  not  and  cannot  live  for 
eight  or  ten  months  under  pressure  of  great  heat  and 
feel  no  thirst.  When  compelled  by  circumstances,  the  os- 
trich can  live  a  long  time  without  water,  perhaps  a  month 
or  six  weeks,  but  it  cannot  live,  as  one  of  our  encyclope- 
dias tells  us,  a  year  without  water.  We  always  believed 
our  story  books  and  books  of  travel  when  they  told  us 
that  the  male  ostrich,  like  our  barn-yard  rooster,  always 
strutted  around,  escorted  by  eight  or  ten  wives.  The 
ostrich  has  but  one  mate,  and,  if  the  female  dies  after 
they  have  lived  together  for  some  time,  the  male  bird  is 
inconsolable  and  will  sometimes  pine  away  and  die. 
The  average  life  of  the  ostrich  is  75  years,  but  after 
twenty-five  years  they  bear  no  feathers  of  commercial 
vslae. 

The  writer  of  the  article  in  the  encyclopedia,  which  I 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


215 


mentioned  above,  says  the  ostrich  lavs  only  two  oe^s  a 
year,  and  that  the  female  plucks  ont  the  feathlrs  otfh! 

things,  but  his  descendants  now  in  Calif^A,;,     "■  .  • 
enemies.    The  chicks,  when  itched   after  "V™!'"* 

t^rrffdrd'u^rr  -^ « -- -- 

raised  by  hand     iTthi      "^  """  ^°™«*  ^°'  themselves, 
young  birds  would  ieSh  ZlZ't  '°7'  """^  "^  '''« 

to  be  indifferent  toTh^fate  of  the  ^   "'*"''''  '""" 
are  hatched     It  is  to  f  hV.  ^  °°*'  ""^'^  tl'ey 

ostrich  the  Patrial  jo^!,fT"°u  "''"'"'«■'«««  of  the 
hardened  again"t  w  vo  ''  "'^'''  ^'  «"y^'  "S^e  is 

not  hers;"  a^^dtl^oSV"''-'''  *^°"'^''  ^^^^  ^^^^ 

the  ingr;titude  of ^?eS^tT^1^t" '''' •'""P"^^ 
ostrich  to  her  yon^g      "Th"  ^    *\^""^f  «^«««  of  the 

cruel,  like  the  o3in  the  deS""  "'  "^  ^"^'^  " 

she?an'dTn,S?c:r2tr:  "'?  ''''  '"■»«  ^^^  ^^^ 
seven  weeks  c^?whlnlr^'"'''*  ""l^"  ""'^  "'  ^'^  "^ 
«-  Hold  ,n  li^e  a^d"  Z^Z\^T'lt:. 


216 


BT  PATH  ABD  TBAIL. 


months-old  chick  is  always  hungry,  he  is  pecking  and 
eating  every  moment  he  is  awake,  and  will  devour  more 
food  than  a  grown  bird.  They  grow  fast,  gaining  a  foot 
a  month  in  height  for  six  or  seven  months.  Some  of  the 
birds  on  the  Salt  river  farms  are  eight  and  nine  feet 
from  the  head  to  the  ground,  and  weigh  from  400  to 
500  pounds.  Some  one  has  said  that  facts  are  some- 
times stranger  than  fiction,  and  in  the  wonderful  provis- 
ion made  by  nature  for  the  perpetuation  of  the  ostrich, 
the  saying  becomes  an  aphorism.  The  first  three  eggs 
laid  by  this  singular  bird  are  sterile  and  will  not  hatch. 
By  a  "-onderful  law  of  instinct,  or  call  it  what  we  will, 
the  mi'  ier  lays  the^j  eggs  outside  the  nest.  There  is  a 
deep  a.  1  my.sterious  law  of  nature  compelling  the  bird 
to  follow  this  command  of  instinct.  On  the  African  des- 
erts, when  the  nesting  time  draws  near,  the  birds  retire, 
into  the  most  lonely  and  unfrequented  parts  of  the  soli- 
tary and  desolate  region,  far  away  from  the  haunts  of 
beast  and  man,  and  from  water.  Now  when  the  little 
creature,  the  chicken,  is  liberated  from  its  prison  by  the 
bursting  of  its  walls,  it  is  very  thirsty  and  craves  for 
water  or  anything  to  slake  its  thirst.  But  there  is  no 
water.  The  mother  looks  upon  its  gasping  offspring 
with  its  tiny  tongue  protruding,  carries  it  over  to  where 
a  sterile  egg  is  lying  in  the  sand,  breaks  the  shell,  and  at 
once  the  little  perishing  creature  buries  its  head  in  the 
opened  egg,  sucks  in  the  liquid  refreshment  and  lives. 
The  next  day  the  little  thing  staggers  by  itself  to  the 
wonderful  fountain  of  the  desert,  and  the  day  after  it  is 
able  to  walk  straight  upright  to  the  well. 

On  the  ostrich  farms  or  alfalfa  ranges  of  Arizona, 
the  yoimg  birds  are  taken  away  and  raised  by  hand,  the 
barren  eggs  gathered  by  the  keeper  and  sold  for  $1.00 


h»ik.. 


BY  PATH  AND  TBAIL. 


217 


each  There  is  another  vory  singular  thing  about  the 
wonde-ful  knowledge,  or  instinct,  of  the  ostrich.  If  an 
egg  IS  removed  from  her  nest  while  she  is  hatching,  and 
a  sterile  egg,  heated  to  the  same  temperature  as  eggs  on 
which  she  is  setting  and  of  the  same  color  and  size  sub- 
stituted, she  will  at  once  detect  the  change  and  roll  the 
egg  out.  If  all  the  eggs  in  the  nest  be  taken  away  and 
sterile  o,,,^s  put  in  their  places,  the  mother  will  abandon 
the  nest  and  lay  no  more  for  months.  If  you  ask  me  for 
an  explanation  of  the  origin  of  this  marvelous  and  mys- 
terious sense,  I  can  only  answer  in  the  words  of  the  in- 
spired writer:  "This  is  the  Lord's  doing,  and  it  h  won- 
dertul  in  our  eyes." 

About  fifteen  eggs  is  the  average  "setting,"  and  the 
penod  of  incubation  forty-two  days.  The  male  bird  takes 
upon  himself  the  heavier  labor  of  the  contract.  He  takes 
charge  of  the  nest  and  assumes  control  of  the  work  at 
5  o  clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  stays  with  his  job  'til 
9  0  clock  in  the  morning,  when  the  female  relieves  him 
At  noon  he  returns  and  keeps  house  for  an  hour  while 
his  partner  goes  for  her  lunch.  The  male  bird  turns  the 
eggs  once  every  twenty-four  hours.  Incubators  have 
been  lately  introduced  and  are  giving  satisfaction.  The 
chicks  when  two  weeks  old,  sell  for  $2,i  each  and 
when  four  years  of  age  a  pair,  male  and  female,  sell  for 
from  $400  to  $600. 

The  birds  do  not  differ  in  appearance  until  they  are 
eighteen  mouths  old,  at  that  age  they  take  on  an  alto- 
gether difterent  plumage;  the  male  arraving  himself  in 
black  and  the  female  in  drab.  When  six  months  old,  the 
birds  experience  the  sensation  of  their  first  plucking 
»nd  after  that  they  give  up  their  plumes  everv  eighS 
months.     Not  until  the  third  plucking  do  the  feathers 


218 


BY  PATH  AKD  IBAIL, 


bring  much  m  the  market;  the  first  and  second  pluckings 
gellmg  for  a  few  shillings.    A  healthy  ostrich  will  yield 
$30  worth  of  feathers  every  year  for  twenty-five  years, 
though  the  average  life  of  the  bird  is  seventy-five  years. 
Many  hundreds  of  young  birds  roam  over  alfalfa  fields 
enclosed  with  wire  netting.    Breeding  pairs  are  confined 
in  a  two-acre  enclosure.    The  range  birds  feed,  like  cat- 
tle, on  alfalfa  grass,  picking  up  quartz  pebbles  which  are 
scattered  over  the  fields  for  their  use,  and  which,  for 
them,  serves  the  same  end  as  gravel  for  hens  and  chick- 
ens.   When  the  hens  are  laying  they  are  given,  from 
time  to  time,  a  diet  of  bone  dust  to  help  in  strengthening 
the  egg   shells.      One  of  the  most  singular  and  inter- 
esting habits    of    the    ostrich    is    his    daily    exercise 
Every  morning  at  sunrise  the  herd,  two  by  two,  begin 
traming  for  the  day  by  indulging  in  a  combination  cake- 
walk  and  Virginiareel.  Thenin  single  file  they  racearound 
the  pasture  till  they  are  thoroughly  limbered  up.    When 
halting,  they  form  in  squares  and  begin  to  dance,  intro- 
ducmg  imitations  of  the  waltz,  negro  break-downs,  cake- 
walks  and  hornpipes.    It  is  a  laughable  and  grotesque 
performance,  and,  when  the  birds  are  in  full  plumage 
and  their  wings  extended,  not  devoid  of  grace  and  beauty 
of  action.    The  ostrich  is  the  ornithological  goat.    He 
will  eat  and  digest  anything.     Offer  him  a  large  San 
Diego  orange,  and  he'll  swallow  it  whole.    Grease  an  old 
shoe  with  tamarind  oil,  throw  it  into  the  paddock  where 
the  birds  feed,  and  at  once  there  is  a  struggle  for  its 
possession,  ending  in  the  complete  disappearance  of  the 
brogan  in  its  entirety  or  in  fragments.    The  salvation 
of  the  ostrich  are  its  plumes.    His  feathers  have  saved 
him  from  the  fate  of  extinct  birds  and  animals  like  the 
great  auk  and  the  Siberian  mammoth.    He  is  destined  to 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


219 


last  to  the  end  of  time,  or  to  the  effacement  of  vanity 
^om  the  heart  of  woman-a  weakness  of  the  sex  which 
began  with  tune  and  will  only  end  when  time  shall  be  no 
more.    He  is  the  only  bird  or  animal  that  can  live  and 

Tt  lel^heJ  ""  *^*'''  *"^'  ^"*"''  ''*«*'"'''*'■  ^''^'  fle^*". 

A  few  weeks  before  coming  to  Phoenix  I  was  told  that 
the  great  Colorado  river  broke  away  from  its  own  chan- 
nel, was  filling  the  Salton  Sink,  and  threatening  to 
eventually  destroy  the  homes  and  farms  of  12  000  pros 
perons  settlers.  When  I  reached  Yuma,  this  morning, 
I  leanied  for  the  first  time  that,  if  the  river  was  not 
turned  back,  an  inland  sea  would  form,  and  the  climate  of 
southern  Arizona  and  southeastern  California  change 

JNorth  of  the  Mexican  boundary  is  a  splendid  tract  of 
land  known  as  Imperial  Valley,  homesteaded  by  10,000 
families.    The  chief  towns-Imperial,  Holtville,  Heber 

wf  Ti"''!'""!  ""  °°^  *''""°8  ""-J  prosperous. 
South  of  the  border  is  an  area  of  land  equal  to  that  of 
Imperial  valley  m  fertility  and  productiveness,  belonging 
to  the  Colorado  Biver  Development  Companv  The 
principal  canal  of  the  great  irrigating  system  leaves  the 

of  100  feet  above  the  .sea,  and  crossing  the  Mexican  fron- 
tier flows  eastward  into  Imperial  vallev.  Tlie  town 
of  Imperial  almost  in  the  center  of  the  Vallev,  i.,  six- 
ty-two feet  lower  than  the  ocean,  and  the  grade  contin- 
ues to  fall  till  at  Salton  Sink  it  is  down  to  287  feet  be 
low  sea  level.  This  decline  gives  a  rapid  current  to  the 
flowing  waters,  and  the  opening  in  the  river  bank  ha» 
grown  so  wide  that  it  will  take  much  time  and  millions 
to  close  It.  If  the  break  be  not  repaired,  the  Imperial 
valley  and  the  entire  Colorado  desert  of  southern  Cali 


220 


BY  PATH  AND  TRAIL. 


I 


foraia  up  to  the  ancient  beaches  on  the  inclosing  moun- 
tains, will  become  submerged  and  a  great  lake  formed  at 
the  end  of  twenty  years.  So,  at  least  the  engineers  of  the 
Southern  Pacific  and  the  liydrographers  now  here  assure 
me. 

The  new  sea  now  foi  ling  in  the  desert  lands  of  Ari- 
zona, Mcvico  and  California  is  one  of  the  most  extra- 
ordmary  assisted  natural  phenomena  of  modem  times. 
It  ha.'  .•lianged  the  course  of  one  of  the  greatest  rivers 
of  the  West,  has  forced  cne  of  the  greatest  railroads  in 
the  world  to  move  back,  and  back  and  back  again,  is  con- 
verting a  desert  into  an  inland  sea,  may  pos.sibly  change 
the  dimate  of  a  great  territory,  and  even  involve  two 
friendly  nations  in  diplomatic  controversy. 

Back  of  all  is  the  sinister  suspicion  that  behind  the 
opening  is  a  deep-laid  plot  to  acquire  by  purchase  from 
Mexico  an  important  slice  of  Lower  CaUfomia.  This 
suspicion  has  probably  reached  the  ears  of  the  President 
who  is  above  trickery  and  treachery,  and  may  account 
for  his  "rush  order"  to  Mr.  Harriman  of  the  Southern 
Facihc  to  "close  the  breach;  count  not  the  cost,  but  close 
the  breach."    It  will  be  closed. 

This  morning  I  sailed  over  the  ruins  and  roofs  of  some 
of  the  buildings  of  Salton  Sink,  where  a  few  years  ago 
were  the  greatest  salt  works  and  evaporating  pans  in 
America.  Where  three  years  ago  there  was  a  desolate 
and  forbidding  wilderness,  there  is  now  a  lake  twentv- 
three  miles  wide,  fifty  miles  long,  in  places  fortv  feet 
deep  and  forced  by  the  inrush  of  the  waters  of  the  Gi'- 
and  Colorado  rivers,  is  rising  nearlv  one  inch  every 
twenty-four  hours.  The  break  is  in  the  banks  of  an  irri- 
gatmg  canal  a  few  miles  south  of  Yuma,  Ariz  Three 
miles  above  this  town,  the  Colorado  opens  its  side  and 


BY  PATH  AWD  TRAIL. 


221 


takes  in  the  Gila  river,  and  from  there  the  flow  sweeps  on 
100  miles  to  the  Gulf  of  CaUfomia. 

Possibly  the  most  ambitious  attempt  at  irrigation  of 
and  lands  ever  undertaken  by  private  enterprise  was 
that  of  the  California    Development    Company,  which 
promised  its  shareholders  to  irrigate,  by  gravity,  from 
the  Colorado  river,  800,000  acres  of  desert  land,  one- 
fourth  of  which  belongs  to  Mexico.    The  company  was 
wipitalized  at  $1,250,000.    This  company  began  opera- 
tions in  April,  1897,  and  in  six  years  villages  and  towns 
sprang  into  life,  and  where  a  few  years  ago  there  was  a 
desert,  there  are  now  fertile  farms,  orange  and  lime 
groves  and  comfortable  homes,  occupied  by  thousands 
of  mdnstnous  and  contented  people.    A  canal,  called  the 
Alamo,  was  dredged  from  the  Colorado  through  the  sand 
lands  and  from  this  canal,  by  auxiliary  ditches,  was  fur- 
mshed  water  for  irrigating  the  farms. 
■  V^^V^!  Colorado  river  was  low,  the  canal  was  slug- 
gish in  Its  flow,  the  channel  and  subsidiary  trenches  filled 
with  silt,  and  the  settlers  became  clamorous.    Then  the 
company  opened  a  second  intake,  known  as  the  Imperial, 
which  comiected  the  Colorado  with  the    Alamo    canal 
Here  and  now,  is  where  the  trouble  begins.    Neither  .suf- 
ficiently strong  nor  perfected  headgates,  wing-dams  or 

IQof  ^f  nT™^'"'™''''''  ""''•  ''^'•"'  '"  the  spring  of 
1903,  the  Colorado,  swollen  from  mountain  and  tributary 
streams,  came  rushing  to  the  sea,  it  swept  the  artificial 
works  aside  and  entered  upon  its  present  career  of  de- 
vastation. 

About  this  time  a  series  of  sharp,  quick  and  rotary 
earthquakes  rocked  the  country  and  opened  a  gash  in 
the  Colorado  above  the  Imperial  weir.  From  this  open- 
mg  the  waters  poured  into  what  is  now  known  as  the 


!S» 


222 


BI  PATH  4KD  TRAIL. 


new  river,  and  onward,,  almo8t  due  north,  to  Salton 
basin,  seventy-five  miles  away. 

Salton  Basin  was  a  vast  depression  in  the  earth's  sur- 
face, sinking  from  sea  level  to  287  feet  below.    It  wid- 

.7*1  ^J'  T  '"'"°"*"  "'  '""t'""  California  and 
stretched  weU  into  Mexico,  forming  a  huge  depression  be- 
tween well  defined  "beaches"  of  an  ancient  sea,  and 

^r  /"u^T,"^''"'**  "'"  °'  ^'««n  '0  forty  miles 
jnde  and  about  100  miles  long.  There  is  no  doubt  but 
that  at  some  time  in  the  past  this  sunken  desert  was  an 
extension  of  the  Gulf  of  California. 

From  a  point  near  the  boundary  line  to  the  gulf,  a  dis- 
tance  of  about  eighty-five  miles,  lies  the  delta  of  the  Col- 
orado, a  nch  alluvial  plain  of  great  depth,  equal  in  pro- 
ductivity to  he  delta  of  the  Nile;  a  vast  areaTapparently 
as  level  as  a  table,  built  up  by  the  Colorado  ri;er;  that  has 
drawn  its  matenal  from  the  plains  of  Wyoming,  through 
Green  river,  and,  adding  to  it  all  down  through  Colorado, 
Utah  and  Anzona,  deposited  it  on  the  new  land  it  was 
forming  at  the  end  of  its  flow. 

This  is  the  first  time  in  its  history  that  the  Colorado 
has  changed  Its  course,  and  all  efforts  of  men  and  money 
of  the  great  Southern  Pacific  and  the  giant  irrigation 
companies  have  failed  to  coax  or  force  it  back  to  its 
natural  bed.  A  river  that  has  flowed  on  through  the 
ages,  laughing  at  all  obstacles,  tearing  the  hearts  out  of 
opposing  momitains  and  ripping  for  itself  in  places  a 
channel  a  mile  deep,  and,  in  places,  leagues  wide,  is  not 
gomg  to  be  turned  aside  .  ,  ily.  Great  is  the  strength  of 
tte  Southern  Pacific ;  enormous  is  the  power  of  corporate 
wealth;  cunmng  is  the  brain  and  deft  the  hand  of  the 
Amencan,  but  as  yet  the  strength  of  the  Southern  Pa- 
cific, the  power  of  corporate  wealth,  combined  with  the 


W  PATH  Airo  IBAIL.  228 

•hrewdneg.  and  cleame..  of  the  American  brain,  have 
riveXS  !?„£:'  ""*  *""*'■  '""•'''"''"''  """- 

Southern  Pacific  has  wrenched  apart  and  moved  back 

of  „rT^r'  *'«'*y' *'^'*y.  "d  now,  through  a  cloud 
P'ow^ty,  seventy-five  mUes  from  its  lawful  bed.    Al- 
ready Salton,  with  all  its  buildings,  its  vast  evaporating 
pans  and  unprovements,  is  submerged,  and  fertile  farms 
and  ranch  lands  are  destroyed,  it  may  be,  for  all  time. 
The  towns  and  improved  lands  of  Imperial  valley,  the 
grazing  lands  of  the  Pioto  region  of  Lower  California, 
Mexir  J,  and  milhons  of  dollars  invested  in  railroad  and 
other  valuabe  securities  are  threatened,  and  to  save 
hem  may  call  for  the  co-operation  of  two  nations  and 
the  expenditure  of  an  enormous  sum    of    money.    The 
JlrtnrV*°//\^'°"  '^^  Ctackawalla  mountains  and 
MlatTon  ""         "*■■' "  """""^'^  ^"'»  '">"'- 

Unless  the  inrush  of  the  Colorado  is  checked,  it  is  very 
probable  that  the  Salton  sea  and  the  Gulf  of  California 
will  agam  form  one  great  body  of  water 
This  means  that  the  inland  desert  will  become  a  great 

m^::Vo:zj::r  ''"''•  '"'"•^  '"^ "  ^^"^  -^  --' 

Thus,  sometimes,  do  natural  phenomena,  in  time 
make  for  the  prosperity  or  decadence  of  a  n;tion  In 
spite  of  evaporation,  the  profanity  of  the  Southern  Pa- 
cific shareholders,  and  the  herculean  attacks  of  2,000 

!t»  ;!"'•-]  ^^'^  ?P"*  '''"''■''""<'  engineers,  the  inland 
sea  is  widening,  for  the  waters  of  the  great  river  are 
mslung  to  Its  assistance  at  the  rate  of  8,000  cubic  feet 
per  second.    This  is  the  volmne  at  the  lowest  stage  of 


m 


BT  PATH  AHD  TBAIL. 


the  WBter;  the  spring  freshet,  will  .well  it  to  80,000  feet, 
for  that  18  the  average  high  flow  of  the  river 

At  present  the  new  inland  lake  is  a  beautiful  sheet  of 
water,  and  is  a  never  failing  source  of  wonder  t.  liastem 
tourists  after  crossing  hundreds  of  miles  of  arid  wastes, 
of  wnd,  greasewood  and  cactus.  To  the  west,  from  the 
f^nd-du-lac  or  foot  of  the  lake,  to^er  the  snowKiapped 
«  h  tl^"™';  Bernardino  and  Mount  San  lacinto, 
e«,h  about  12,000  feet  high.  For  ages  the  Bernardino 
has  held  the  restless,  crawling  sands  of  the  thirsty  des- 
ert  which  scor  ed  its  foothills,  and  at  last  the  cool 
waters  have  come  and  rippling  waves  play  with  its  foun- 
dati;.ns  '^.-.emg  Salton-or  what  wn.  once  Salton-the 
Ma  is^|..;at  twelve  miles  wide,  and  the  mountains,  rising 
inajer;.cally  to  the  west,  mirror  themselves  on  its  placid 
surface. 

Here  in  Yuma,  they  tell  me  the  temperature  was  no 
higher  than  usual  last  summer,  yet  the  heat  was  the  most 
oppressive  in  the  history  of  the  f.yce.  They  attribute 
this  oppression  to  the  Salton  sea,  and  dread  the  ap- 
proach of  June  with  a  much  greater  area  wider  water 

AVhatever  the  outcome  of  this  continuous  inundation 
may  be,  if  not  arrested,  whether  the  present  waters  join 
the  gulf  or  an  inland  sea  is  formed,  a  remarkable  climatic 
change  is  sure  to  occur,  and,  indeed,  is  now  in  process 
of  evolution^  For  the  past  year,  more  rain  has  fallen  in 
and  around  Yuma  than  in  the  last  five  years,  and  sections 
of  land  that  were  formeriy  a  wilderness  of  shifting  sands 
are  now  Blossoming  like  a  garden.  Here  before  our  verN- 
eyes  is  the  verification  of  the  prophecy  of  Isaiah :  ' '  The 
land  that  was  desolate  and  impassable  shall  be  glad,  and 
tho  w,  demess  shall  rejoice  and  shall  flourish  like  a  lUy- 
It  shall  bud  forth  and  blossom  and  shall  rejoice  with  joy- 


•»  FAIH  AKO  TBAIL. 


225 


the  glory  of  Libaniw  ia  given  to  it;  tlie  beauty  of  Crnnel 
and  Sharon." 

The  vitality  of  desert  8P»d«  is  imperishable,  and,  liie 
the  peace  of  the  Lord,  surpafseth  the  understanding  of 
man.  There  are  places  near  here,  now  bright  and  green 
with  flowers  and  grasses,  that  a  few  years  since  were 
wastes  of  land,  and  from  immemorial  time  scorched  with 
hopeless  sterility.  Since  "the  waters  have  broken  out 
m  th"  desert  and  streams  in  the  wilderness,"  the  face 
of  this  region  is  taking  on  the  look  of  youth,  and  the 
land  a  competitive  value. 

At  Salton  the  water  is  as  translucent  as  the  sea  at 
Abalone,  and  is  even  more  salty.  It  seems  almost  un- 
canny to  cruise  about  in  skiffs  and  launches  over  places 
which,  a  while  ago,  were  barren  lands,  and  over  homes 
\  bore  people  lived. 

At  the  present  time  two  great  forces  are  battling  for 
the  mastery  of  a  territory  as  large  as  the  state  of  Rhode 
Island.  On  the  one  side  is  the  Colorado  river  that  has 
never  been  controlled  by  man;  on  the  other  is  a  power- 
fui  irrigation  company,  supported  by  the  genius  and  re- 
source of  a  great  railroad  corporation.  There  are  indi- 
cations that  they  may  retire  from  the  fight  and  run  for 
tJie  hills,  leaving  the  governments  of  the  United  States 
and  ilexico  to  engage  the  monster  that  threatens  the  an- 
nhilation  of  Imperial  valley  and  its  thousands  of  culti- 
vsted  acres  and  prosperous  homes. 

THE  END. 


